Haywire
by Bm135071
Summary: Hunters attack the Hale pack, catching them off guard, and Stiles is caught up in the middle. Literally. Now,Derek and the pack are livid, searching for their most valuable, and yet most fragile member before the hunters end up killing him.


**Haywire**

 **Pt. 1**

After everything they'd dealt with, it really pissed Scott off that of all things, hunters were the ones to figure out the pack's true weakness. They'd dealt with kanimas, an entire pack of alphas, darachs, and even a vampire coven that one time, and yet hunters (and not very smart ones at that) had been able to hit them where it hurt the most. And the worst part was that they didn't even know it.

Scott growled in frustration, his legs pushing against the ground faster, senses kicking into overdrive to find what he was looking for. The cool night air whipped past as he ran, various smells and noises registering but none of them were even remotely close to what he was searching for. He couldn't pick up the right scent, and it only made him angrier, his legs moving faster by the second. The dry leaves crunched noisily as he ran through the forest, but he didn't care how much noise he made, or if the hunters would catch him because of it.

They had Stiles somewhere, probably chained up and stuck with wires so they could electrocute him. The electricity would prevent a werewolf from being able to shift and tear them apart. It would hurt enough to make the wolf weak, but not enough to kill it.

Except that Stiles wasn't a werewolf. And he'd probably die from it instead, but the hunters didn't know that.

Stiles was the only human in the pack. It had been by an absurd amount of dumb luck that the hunters had managed to catch the one pack member that the entire pack centered around, valued, and protected the most. He was the glue that kept them together; he was the one everyone confided in, the one who could always tell who was hurting and how to help, he was their best tactician, and frankly, the pack just didn't function smoothly without him. The hunters had essentially taken the heart of the pack. And the pack could not be more angry about it.

A howl in the distance made Scott skid to a stop. It was low and had an authoritative sound to it that only an alpha would be able to make. It was Derek's, and that meant that Derek had found Stiles. Scott huffed a breath of relief before sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him in the direction the howl had come from.

Derek came into sight a few minutes later, and Scott came to a halt a few feet from him, now being careful not to make a sound. They were stood in front of a metal trap door in the ground. It had been haphazardly covered by leaves and dirt, which suggested that these hunters were even less experienced than they had originally thought. Derek's nostrils flared as his eyes flashed crimson, anger radiating off of him in waves. Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Ethan, Aiden, Cora, and even Peter show up shortly after Scott, and it isn't hard to tell that all eight of them were just as furious as Derek. These hunters had a death wish, and it was about to come true.

Derek looked at them all, raising a finger to his ear. The pack quieted themselves as Derek counted on his fingers. Four..six..eight..ten. Ten heartbeats below the door, which meant nine of them were hunters. If they weren't too late.

Derek took one final look at his pack, his eyes telling them to get ready, gearing them up without even needing to say a word. Because this was Stiles they were rescuing, and all of them were livid, itching to kill, to protect their pack mate.

With a blood curdling snarl, Derek broke his stare, swiftly bringing down his boot clad foot and smashing the door out of its hinges. There's a loud matallic clang as it hits the floor below, and that's all the warning the hunters get before the pack is swarming their base.

A cacophony of screams, growls, snarls, and gunfire break the quiet of the night as the pack make quick work of the hunters. Derek leads the attack, raking his claws through three hunters as he fights towards the back of the room. Isaac and Erica team up to take out one who's holding a large electric rod. Erica jumps on his back, tearing at his face with her claws as Isaac rips the weapon out of his hands and strikes him with it. The two wolves snarl in victory as he crumples to the floor. Boyd has successfully taken out two men, hitting one so hard that he flies into the other, both smashing their heads on the far wall. Scott comes through directly after Derek, finishing off the three that Derek had wounded. Cora, Peter, and the twins quickly and efficiently take care of the remaining four, each wolf severing the jugular of one hunter before they could so much as raise their guns. Within seconds all nine hunters are dead.

It's Derek that reaches Stiles first, bursting into a room at the back of the hideout to find the boy chained to the wall. He's shirtless, various wires stuck to the surface of his pale, fragile skin and in some places through it and into his veins. Stiles hangs limply from his wrists, his chest barely moving. Actually, his chest not moving at all.

The entire pack leaps into action as they realize Stiles isn't breathing. Scott starts ripping wires off of Stiles as Derek unchains one wrist, Boyd unchaining the other. Stiles' body falls forward into Derek's embrace, the alpha gently lowering the boy to the floor. The pack could no longer hear his heartbeat. Frantically, Derek begins CPR, pushing against Stiles' small chest; one, two three, mouth to mouth, one two, three more compressions, mouth to mouth again.

"Breathe Stiles, goddammit!" Derek shouts, the desperation in his voice almost palpable.

Erica and Isaac have started whimpering, both clutching at Stiles' hands. Boyd looks absolutely distraught, and he almost _never_ shows any emotion at all. Peter holds Cora as she buries her face in his chest, Ethan and Aiden stand helplessly, unable to do anything at all, and Scott just stares at his best friend, dying right in front of him.

"...ott! SCOTT!" Derek screams, snapping the younger wolf out of his shock.

"Scott I have to give him the bite." Derek says , having faced the fact that CPR wasn't going to work. Scott's mouth hangs slightly open in despair, his eyes wet with unshed tears for Stiles, his best friend, his _brother_ , who had been so adamant about keeping his humanity, no matter what.

"N-no!" Scott exclaimed "You can't! You can't take his humanity from him Derek, he wouldn't want that! You can't!"

"Scott, he's dying." Derek growled "If I don't do this he won't make it."

"He wouldn't want it to be that way. You know how he feels about the bite." Scott bites back, the tears finally falling.

"I can't just let him die, Scott! You know why I can't!" Derek roars, and the pack flinches back from the volume of it.

But the silence that follows is worse. They could all feel the life slowly slipping away from Stiles, his lack of a heartbeat only making the lessening of their bond to him that much more painful.

"I have to." Derek whispers, his final plead to Scott.

Scott nods, squeezing his eyes shut and bowing his head.

"Do it." He says, and Derek doesn't even hesitate, lowering his mouth to the juncture between Stiles' neck and shoulder. He half shifts, his teeth elongating as he opens his mouth, and bites down into Stiles' cold skin. When he's done he pulls away, lapping at the bite mark in hopes that it will heal faster.

"Now we wait." He says solemnly, brushing back the hair from Stiles' forehead, and praying that the bite would take.

 **Pt. 2**

Three days have passed since Stiles had been bitten, but still he shows no signs of waking any time soon.

When Derek had carried Stiles through the door of his old house, the house he now shared with his pack, those who had stayed behind reacted in various states of despair.

Stiles' father was the first to reach them, his wide eyes flicking from his son's pale, almost lifeless face to Derek, who could only shake his head in a gesture that could only be understood as uncertainty.

Allison had let out a strangled sounding noise, before sobbing uncontrollably into her father's chest, while Chris pressed his lips into a tight line, clearly struggling to keep his composure. And Lydia could only stare on in shock, a single tear falling from her eyes as Derek carried her best friend up the stairs.

Derek had laid Stiles down on his bed, the biggest bed in the house. And that's where he had stayed. The pack could only wait in suspense and terror and hope through the time that passed. They all took turns watching Stiles, whose condition hadn't changed in the slightest since the night he'd been bitten. And they all slept in Derek's room, desperate for Stiles to get better, to wake up.

After a week Derek realized they couldn't all stay at the house 24/7. They had run out of food, and needed the income if they were going to survive this. So the pack went back to their regular routines, going to work, and to school, even though it pained them to do so. They spend as much time with Stiles when they're home as they possibly can, always making sure that at least one person is home. Just in case Stiles woke up. A week more passed with still no change, and the pack had almost started to lose hope.

Erica was with Stiles when the first sign of a change occurred. It had been two and a half weeks. The change was extremely slight, but it was there; Stiles heart rate had picked up a bit. She had shrieked in excitement, causing the other four people in the house at the time to come running. Stiles' father, who had indefinitely taken time off of work, had looked absolutely terrified until he saw the smile on Erica's face. Isaac, Boyd, and Cora had had similar responses.

"He's healing." Erica had said, happy tears cascading down her cheeks. She held tightly onto one of Stiles' hands, which she kissed in adoration. When the five of them had told the rest of the pack everyone had started to stay home again, patiently waiting for Stiles' imminent awakening. They had all been so hopeful, ecstatic even. Which was better than they'd felt in what seemed like ages.

Not wanting to take away from the others' time with Stiles, Derek had been the one to volunteer to go grocery shopping the day Stiles finally woke up. No one was expecting the disaster that ensued.

Stiles hadn't woken up from his coma the way they portray it in movies, or in books. No, Stiles had been ripped from his sleep, jolting awake with his heart pumping wildly in his chest. He doesn't know where he is. The last thing he remembered was being zapped and beaten by those hunters, and now everything is so loud, and so bright, even though the dark window in the room ensures it must be night time. This only confuses Stiles further, because he doesn't know how much time has passed since he was last awake. He couldn't remember moving from that dark, cold, dungeon-like place to here. And he couldn't make heads or tails of all the sensory details his brain is providing him.

He could hear car engines blaring, but there were no cars nearby at all. He was in the woods last he checked, and he could hear the thunderous sound of water rushing, and twigs breaking outside, and he shouldn't be able to hear that either. He could smell the wood of the floor in the room, could see every dust particle in the air, could taste the humidity. Stiles' heart kicks into overdrive, the blood rushing so loudly, too loudly, through his veins as fear and adrenaline course through him. Where was he? Why was everything so overwhelming? Was he safe or did the hunters still have him? His breaths were coming out short and frantic, his bare chest heaving, as he looks around without even processing anything, the sheer panic he's in preventing him from thinking clearly.

Then something had reached out to touch him, and he had lashed out in terror, jumping from the bed and towards the corner of the room, backing into it and crouching low, ready to attack whatever had just touched him.

The smell of iron hit Stiles, but he couldn't focus on that, there were people in the room with him now. He had to focus on defending himself. One of them tried to reach out to him, a blonde female with big brown eyes, but Stiles swatted at her, an inhuman noise ripping through his throat. She yelped and staggered away from him. Two more had leapt into action then, jumping towards him and latching onto his arms. They wrestled him to the ground, Stiles thrashing and roaring in frustration and fear the entire time. He vaguely registers the sound of someone talking hysterically into a phone, but brushes that thought aside in favor of fighting the two men holding him down. Somehow he manages to raise his head up and bite the arm of one of them, snarling viciously as he does it, and the man lets go. He rips out of the grasp of the other and skids across the floor into the corner again, his back to the wall. Everything seems blurry to him but at the same time so sharp and clear. It's so disorienting that it'd almost be better if Stiles couldn't see at all. He growls lowly, a rumbling sound in his throat that clearly communicates a warning to stay away.

The people in the room have backed away from him now, fear written in their postures, and Stiles calculates their every move. Sensing that this is his opportunity, he crouches low before springing forward and dashing through all of them. He's so fast that none of them have time to process the fact that he's just run by them.

It takes a few seconds, which is an eternity in this instance, for them to give chase.

By then he'd already made it down the hallway and to the stair case. His body moves of its own accord, forgoing the stairs entirely as he leaps over the railing and into the foyer. Someone stands between him and the door, an older looking male with sandy colored hair, and Stiles strikes him down, sending him flying out of the way. He jumps forward towards the front door, which in the same moment bursts open, a built, dark haired man filling in the doorway.

Stiles roars at the man, his throat straining with the effort, but he gets cut off midway. The man glares at him, eyes flashing a menacing shade of red before letting out a terrifyingly thunderous roar of his own.

Stiles shrinks back with a yelp, having felt the roar physically pierce his very being. He falls to the floor in pain, cowering away from the man in the doorway.

It's the man's voice that finally snaps Stiles out of it.

"Stiles." He says, his voice slightly hoarse, low with sadness, and something else that sounds so close to pity it makes Stiles want to scream.

He comes back to himself in stages, first realizing that the old, but newly restored cherry wood floors he's sitting on belong to the Hale house; his second home. Next, looking up at the dark haired man who had spoken and realizing that it's just Derek, who looks at him with sadness and something else Stiles can't quite place.

"Stiles.." Derek says again,gently. His eyes flick from Stiles' eyes and then down towards his hands.

Stiles looks down at them slowly, horror and fear taking hold of him again when he sees that they're drenched in blood up to his wrists. He lets out a choked noise, first looking back up to Derek, trying to understand, before he looks around the room.

The rest of his pack stands at the top of the staircase, looking down at him in varying degrees of fear. Erica holds her hand to her bleeding side, Scott's arm has a chunk taken out of it, and Boyd has scratches across his face. Lydia and Allison look shaken up, and Isaac and the twins seem to be breathing shallowly, like their ribs might be broken.

He did this, he realizes, and it makes him feel sick. But then he turns his head to the bottom of the stair case, where his father lies unconscious next to Cora and Peter, who both are working on stopping the blood flowing from the side of his head. Stiles' whole world comes to a stop in that moment.

"No.." He moans, and his voice is so broken, so devastated that it hurts just to hear it.

"No...no, no!" He cries, gripping his hair between his hands and pulling hard enough to draw blood as heartbreaking sobs wrack through him.

Derek is there in an instant, pulling Stiles' hands away from his head, and pulling the boy into a crushing embrace. He folds his body around Stiles' small frame, pulling the boy's head into the crook of his neck and cradling the back of it. Derek's other arm moves in soothing motions up and down Stiles' bare back.

"Shh,Stiles." He hums sadly, but comfortingly. "Shh..it's ok. He'll be ok."

Stiles arms raise to grip the back of Derek's shirt, holding onto him like his life depends on it. He lets out another broken sob, and his body shakes uncontrollably.

By now the rest of the pack has descended the stairs to console their pack mate, their initial fear residing after they realized that Stiles hadn't been himself. Erica and Boyd settle to the right of him, Erica running her fingers soothingly through his hair where Derek's hand isn't covering it. Scott, Allison, and Lydia settle to his left. Scott reaches out and puts his hand on Stiles's shoulder, and Lydia rubs his forearm gently. The twins and Isaac come to sit behind Derek, and Isaac rests his hand on one of Stiles' ankles, his thumb running slow circles where it rests on his skin.

In time Stiles' sobs subside, his shaking lessening as the pack comforts him. Derek continues to stroke his spine slowly, moving down before coming back up and almost into his hair. The action is slowly lulling Stiles to sleep, and it's not long before his breathing evens out, his muscles going lax in Derek's arms.

Derek picks Stiles up then, the teen's small frame curling in towards him. Stiles whimpers softly in his sleep, and clutches at Derek's shirt. When Derek walks up the stairs and down the hallway to his room, he's careful not to wake the boy in his arms. The pack follows quietly behind him, curling up around Stiles on Derek's bed after Derek lays him there gently. They leave a space for Derek knowingly, as he goes to check on the sheriff. After having seen him conscious again, he tells Peter and Cora to call Melissa, who hurries over. Seeing that Sheriff Stilinski will be ok, Derek then retreats back to his room.

He silently moves into the bed next to Stiles, the boy's features looking troubled even in sleep. Stiles' eyebrows are drawn together slightly, and he twitches every so often, his body stiff with tension. Derek pulls the smaller boy close, resting Stiles' head on his bicep as he holds it close to his chest. He pulls Stiles waist closer, resting his hand on the small of his back. Relief washes through Derek as Stiles' body relaxes and he subconsciously nuzzles into Derek's chest. The rest of the pack shifts around them, getting comfortable before they all drop off into sleep.

 **Pt. 3**

This time Stiles wakes slowly, knowing that he is in fact safe. He knows because it smells like it, along with smelling like pack, and warmth, and...Derek.. specifically. He opens his eyes slowly, but that doesn't really clue him in to anything because all he can see is a wall of black fabric in front of his face. And then that wall of black fabric moves- and _oh that's a person_ \- Stiles thinks, before realizing said person is Derek. Stiles is even more freaked out when he realizes he knows it's Derek because for one, he can smell it, and because he recognizes him by the sound of his heartbeat, which hey, kinda sounds pretty loud, too loud actually, like a _he-shouuldn't-be-able-to-hear-it-that-well_ kind of too loud. Stiles is halfway to a panic attack now, but he stills instantly when Derek pulls him impossibly closer in his sleep. At first it calms Stiles, that feeling of _safe_ and _pack_ returning, but then Stiles realizes those emotions never used to register so physically and clearly in his brain. And now they feel like a sixth sense, which leads Stiles to realize that he feels not quite himself. He feels...better..enhanced. Like he's had some sort of upgrade..

Like he's been turned.

Stiles gasps as he remembers everything that had happened the night before, shoving Derek away from him and scrambling to the other side of the bed, which is now thankfully unoccupied.

Derek wakes with a start, his eyes quickly landing on Stiles, whose wide, brown eyes stare back at him with confusion and fear.

"Stiles?" Derek questions, reaching towards the boy. Stiles flinches away though, and Derek pulls his hand back, sitting up slowly. "Stiles what's wrong?" He tries again.

Stiles seems choked up for a minute, like he's struggling to get the words out.

"...my dad..?" He whispers fearfully, eyes wide with guilt, fear, and regret.

"He's fine." Derek says, and sees some of the tension leave Stiles' shoulders. A second later though, he tenses back up.

Stiles hesitates for a moment, and Derek can almost see the gears in his head turning. After another beat of silence he speaks again.

"My senses are dialed up to eleven, Derek." He states, his voice quivering slightly. " I can hear Scott eating cereal downstairs, and I know it's him, because his jaw does that weird clicky thing. But I shouldn't be able to hear any of that from here. So why-why can I?" Stiles babbles, heart rate sky rocketing in the time it takes for him to finish talking.

Derek watches him carefully, and it's so hard not to just pull Stiles to him. Everything in him is screaming to touch, to comfort, to ease away the pain. He attempts to reach out once more but Stiles flinches again, eyes glossing over with tears.

"Don't." He says, and Derek nearly whines in protest. "Don't touch me. Please don't...Just, tell me what happened, Derek."

Derek looks down at the dark bedsheets, and starts picking at the fabric nervously. And Stiles gets a horrible twisting feeling in his stomach, because when has Derek ever acted nervous?

"You're a wolf now." He says quietly, looking up at Stiles cautiously, gauging his reaction.

Stiles freezes, feels like he's had the breath knocked out of him. He feels a profound and agonizing sense of loss, almost comparable to when his mother died. It registers as a physical ache in his chest, in his bones, even though he knows he's nearly indestructible now. He isn't human anymore. The realization is earth-shattering, it rips his emotional foundations right out from underneath him, but he doesn't even have time to compartmentalize because he's got questions that need to be answered before he can make sense if it all.

"Why?" He croaks, fighting back tears.

Derek pauses again, a pained expression crossing his face.

"You were dying.." He says. And Stiles can't understand why that's so hard for Derek to say, because when has Derek ever cared about him that much? They were friends now, sort of.. But Stiles knew he got on Derek's nerves. And Derek had never really treated him kindly, per se. It had mostly felt like tolerance.

"We got there too late," Derek continues, his eyebrows drawing together in reminiscence. "You were so pale..and you'd stopped breathing...We couldn't hear your heart beat. I tried CPR, Stiles, I did, but you weren't going to make it. I had to...I couldn't..."Derek trails off, his eyes pleading with Stiles to forgive him.

Stiles stares back in shock, not knowing how to feel or how to react. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if he's necessarily angry with Derek for giving him the bite, but doesn't know if he can forgive him yet either. And that just confuses Stiles even more. He wants to be logical about this, but it's his humanity they're talking about, and his emotions are winning him over right now.

" I can't." He chokes out, shaking his head back and forth, and watches Derek deflate, like he's been slapped in the face. After a moment, he rises from the bed.

"..I'll leave you be then," He says, "I can send your dad up if you want...?" He asks, and Stiles is still so confused by how nice Derek is being, but he nods. Derek nods back, and walks towards the door. He pauses before he leaves, seeming like he wants to say something, but only sighs after a moment, leaving Stiles alone.

A few minutes later his dad walks into the room with a full plate of all of Stiles' favorite breakfast foods. Stiles is relieved to see that he's ok, but all he can really think about is how broken Derek had looked just moments ago. And it surprises him that that's his first thought, out of everything that's happened.

 **Pt. 4**

Giving Stiles space is probably the hardest thing Derek had ever had to do, especially because he could tell how badly the boy was hurting, and because Derek felt at fault for Stiles's distress. But Stiles didn't want Derek near him right now, and Derek could understand that. He'd do whatever Stiles needed him to do, even if that meant staying away from him as much as possible, as much as it killed Derek to do so.

But just because Derek had accepted the fact that he needed to stay away from Stiles for the time being didn't mean he couldn't check up on the boy. He'd watch Stiles from afar, as cliche as it sounded. He was an expert at reading body language, and at interpreting the actions of others. Not only this, but his acute sense of smell could easily pick up every emotion in a room full of people, and could trace the emotion directly back to whomever it had come from. Because of this, Derek was actually extremely emotionally intelligent, a fact that would surprise the majority of people. Derek wasn't the best at expressing his own emotions, but that didn't mean he couldn't understand other people's.

The only thing that was keeping him sane while having to stay away from Stiles was that he could tell exactly how the boy was feeling at any given time. Most often it was guilt that Derek sensed, that scent was constant on Stiles, though sometimes more or less potent than others. When it was dull, Stiles almost seemed like he was back to normal. He'd play video games with Scott in the living room, shoving his best friend playfully when he'd inevitably lose. Or he'd sit with Lydia and talk about impossibly complex scientific theories or mathematics concepts that Derek could never understand, but that Stiles enjoyed very much. His scent would take on a certain sweetness that meant he was happy, though the bitter scent of guilt still clung to him too.

At other times, the scent of guilt, accompanied by hints of sadness and loss, would completely overpower the rest of his scent. In those moments, Derek always made sure that Stiles wasn't alone. He'd find the nearest person and nod in Stiles' direction, and they'd understand immediately. Stiles was the type that could never ask for help, would never admit when he was hurting, and Derek understood that too. But he also knew that when Stiles was hurting he needed someone there with him, and Derek would sooner chew off his own arm than let Stiles suffer alone. He wished he could be the one Stiles needed, but he knew that he wasn't. And he had forced himself to accept that. Stiles' needs were greater than his own.

Derek let out a long breath of air, looking out at the forest from where he was sitting on the front porch. The sun was just starting to set, and the warm June air was just starting to cool down. He was worrying about Stiles again, something he'd been doing far more frequently lately. Derek decided that he needed to distract himself before his thoughts got any worse. He stood up slowly, stretching out his arms and legs before tossing his shirt on the front porch. After one last glance at the house, he took off into the forest, letting the fresh air and the quiet calm him.

When Derek finally came home, it was well past sunset, and he was definitely in need of a shower. He walked into the house, hearing a movie playing in the living room, Avengers by the sound of it. Usually Stiles stayed up late watching movies, so Derek figured now was probably a good time to grab clothes from his room. He'd let Stiles stay there because that's where he seemed to be the most comfortable. Derek slept in the guest room now, but he still kept most of his stuff in his room, so he had to carefully plan out when he could go in there and when he shouldn't.

He entered his room quietly, leaving the lights out, he didn't really need them anyways. It took him a moment to register that he actually wasnt alone in the room, but by then it was too late.

Stiles woke with a start, having heard something in his sleep. He sat up quickly, only to see a shirtless Derek, looking like a deer caught in headlights, standing at his dresser.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asks, very purposely _not_ looking any lower than Derek's neck.

"Sorry," the older male says quietly, scratching the back of his neck. "I thought you were down stairs. I just need to grab some clothes and then I'll leave."

Stiles nods, knowing Derek can see him even through the darkness, and lies back down. Derek rummages through his dresser some more before finally closing all the drawers. The way his room is set up, he has to walk back past the bed to leave, and when he passes by Stiles can't help but notice he smells funny.

"Dude," he says, stopping Derek before he leaves the room, "Why do you smell like that? Didn't you just work out?"

Derek pauses in the doorway, stiffening as Stiles sits up slowly. Stiles can see his facial expressions more clearly now that he's standing in the hall light , and Derek looks just plain anxious. Like someone had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

"..like what?" He edges and Stiles narrows his eyes at the older wolf.

" I don't know." He sniffs the air again, and Derek visibly tenses. "You just...smell nice..I guess. Like..mint gum, mixed with rain and something...kinda smoky." Stiles shakes his head in confusion after finishing that thought, not entirely sure why he'd decided to say it out loud.

"...uhm. Thanks, I think." Derek says, and promptly runs off before Stiles can ask him more questions.

He can hear Stiles' huff of frustration as he walks into the bathroom. It was typical of Stiles to be mad about not getting answers, but truthfully, Derek wasn't ready to explain what had just happened, and he didn't think Stiles was ready to know either.

A few days pass after that without incident, and Stiles seems to be recovering gradually, much to Derek's relief. He still has his bad days, but the pack constantly gravitates towards him, ready to comfort and reassure him if he needs it. Stiles is almost never left on his own, which is the only reason Derek feels comfortable enough to leave the house. They were running low on food once again, and Derek (as always) volunteered to go grocery shopping.

When he got back, the house was unusually quiet. Derek could only sense two heartbeats, and it had him on edge right away. He grabbed a few grocery bags out of the Camaro before walking up the porch stairs, relaxing when he steps through the front door. The two people in the house were just Stiles and Scott. Everyone else must have gone off to do their own thing.

Derek made his way into the kitchen, freezing as he steps through the door. Stiles was at the sink washing dishes. The boy looks up absentmindedly as Derek comes into the room.

Derek pauses momentarily, unsure of what to do. Would Stiles be ok with Derek being in the same room with him? Should he wait to bring the groceries in until after Stiles left? Should he just leave right now? Derek's inner monologue is cut short when Stiles clears his throat softly.

"Uh, hi." He says, putting the last dish into the drying rack.

Derek places the two grocery bags he's carrying on the counter slowly, eyeing Stiles cautiously.

"Hi," he says. Then, "Sorry, I could do this later.. I don't want to intrude."

Stiles gives him a confused look, like he's not sure what has gotten into Derek.

" No, the groceries will go bad, Derek." He says, smirking slightly, "And you can't really intrude when you're in your own house."

"Right..." Derek trails off. "Well, I mean..I just..uh.." Derek struggles to say something, anything, but his mind goes completely blank. Thankfully Stiles saves him from further embarrassment as he pushes off of the counter he's leaning on.

"Come on, I'll help." He says, his big brown eyes skimming over Derek and away again as he walks past him and out to the Camaro. The two of them bring the rest of the groceries in quietly, and Derek is surprised when Stiles even starts putting things away too.

Stiles works on putting things in the cupboards while Derek puts away the produce in the fridge. Derek finishes first and can't help but smirk in amusement when he sees Stiles. The boy is too short to reach the top shelf of the cupboards, and even standing on a small stool he has to stretch to reach. Derek tries not to stare, he really does, but the way Stiles is stretched out makes his shirt ride up, exposing a strip of his pale, mole dotted skin. Derek is in the middle of taking note that Stiles' freckles and moles are not solely located on his face and neck when suddenly the stool screeches sideways across the tile.

Stiles loses his footing, gasping as his eyes widen. Derek doesn't even have time to think before his body moves on its own.

Stiles falls into Derek's strong, muscular form. He's fallen somewhat sideways off of the stool, which means that Derek has to wind his arms around him in order to keep his own footing. Stiles' breath hitches as he feels Derek's hand slide across his front. The action causes his stomach to do backflips, but not in an unpleasant way, which confuses and scares him even more. Stiles breath hitches again as Derek lifts him slightly, because his feet are kind of at an awkward angle and still on top of the stool. Derek sets Stiles down on his feet gently, and Stiles springs away from him, heart hammering in his chest.

Derek puts his hands up in a gesture of harmlessness, bowing his head. He looks so guilty, like he's trying his hardest not to spook Stiles, and it freaks Stiles out even more.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." He says quickly. " I just didn't want you to fall, it happened so quick. I'm sorry, Stiles, I didn't mean to scare you, I swear." He pleads, and since when does Derek care about Stiles' approval, or forgiveness, or whatever it is? Derek has been acting so... _not_ like Derek lately that Stiles just doesn't understand it at all. When had Derek started to care enough about Stiles to worry about him getting a few bruises? Especially when those bruises would heal in less than two seconds now that Stiles was no longer human.

Stiles just stares at Derek for a moment, jaw slightly open, and his heart rate slowly returning to normal. Derek's eyes bore into his own, urging him to say something, _anything_. And Stiles can't take it anymore, so he does what he always does when problems occur: he avoids the problem altogether.

"Uh, no big deal, man. Thanks, for that, I guess." He says quickly. He gestures towards the door, stammering a lame excuse to leave, before he high tails it out of there. He doesn't look back, instead trying his hardest to forget the way Derek's shoulders had fallen in defeat, his gray-green eyes clouding over with dissappointment.

He makes his way outside, pausing at the bottom of the porch stairs to regain his composure.

Why did everything have to get so confusing? Stiles had finally had some semblance of a normal life. Well, as normal as it could be when almost all of your friends are supernatural-somethings. He'd finally found his place in the pack, which had finally just meshed together. They had a routine, their lives were predictable aside from the few supernatural occurrences that they occasionally had to deal with. Life was good.

And then it wasn't.

Those stupid hunters had ruined everything. He'd lost his humanity, and along with it all sense of control. Nothing was making sense anymore. Everything Stiles knew seemed like it was flipped upside down and backwards now, and he couldn't get a handle on it. Stiles felt like his life was spiraling out of control, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He couldn't take it anymore.

Stiles jolted forward suddenly, running through the forest in no particular direction. Tears blind his vision as he bursts through the trees. He runs until his legs and lungs ache, stopping only when he reaches a cliff face that overlooks the town.

By now Stiles has stopped crying, the running having done its job to distract him. He sits down carefully at the edge of the cliff, watching as his dangling feet cause dirt and rocks to crumble away, falling hundreds of feet to the ground below.

He doesn't know how long he's been out here, but the sun is just setting when he hears someone approach. He tenses for a second before he realizes that it's just Scott, who comes to sit down beside him.

His best friend gives him a lopsided smile, throwing an arm around his shoulders easily. Stiles relaxes into the embrace, taking comfort in Scott's presence. They sit in companionable silence for a while, something that hardly ever happens with Stiles. But really he hasn't been talking as much since he turned. Secretly Stiles thinks that the bite might have cured his ADHD, and he really doesn't know how to feel about that either.

Since becoming a werewolf, he feels as though some parts of his personality have been lost, while others have become more prominent. He thinks back on the fear and confusion, the utter helplessness he'd felt when he first woke up after being bitten, and in some ways, Stiles realizes that he'd felt like that a lot as a human. He'd felt helpless, vulnerable, and above all he'd felt like the pack's weak link. He wonders if maybe those feelings had been heightened now that he was a werewolf. And he fears for what that means when his first full moon comes around.

"You know, Derek's really worried about you." Scott says softly, finally breaking the silence. Stiles glances sideways at him before looking back out over the cliff.

"..I know." He says quietly.

"Do you though?" Scott questions and Stiles looks back at him in confusion. Scott's eyebrows furrow together before he shakes his head and looks away again.

" I don't think you do, Stiles. You get that he saved your life right?" He continues, glancing over at Stiles, who nods slightly.

" ...I almost let you die," Scott says after a pause, his voice cracking a little with emotion, and Stiles' head snaps up to look at him again again.

Scott's eyes have glossed over a bit and he takes a moment before he goes on.

"I was so scared, Stiles. I thought you wouldn't be able to live with yourself as a wolf, but Derek just wouldn't have it. He knew what had to be done. I think he knows what you need better than any of the rest of us do." He says, and Stiles doesn't know what to do, so he flicks at the dirt awkwardly.

" Derek's more observant than you'd think," Scott says, " He sees you better than the rest of us, always knows exactly how you're feeling, Stiles. Have you noticed that every time you start to feel bad, someone shows up exactly when you need them to? That's not our doing you know, we miss things sometimes. But Derek doesn't. Not ever. Who do you think sent me here right now?"

At this point Stiles is too shocked to even speak. He feels the pressure at the back of his eyes come back, that familiar ache in his throat too. The first tear falls soon after, and Scott, being the good friend he is, doesn't say anything, just pulls Stiles closer.

"You've got to let him in, Stiles." Scott says softly into the top of Stiles' hair. "You're only hurting yourself by shutting him out, and I think you know it, too."

 **Pt. 5**

The following week passes far too quickly for Stiles. The full moon is approaching, his first, and all he can do is worry. Stiles knows he's not ready. He can feel it in his gut and it terrifies him. He thinks everyone knows it too, they can probably smell it all over him.

Derek has been watching him like a hawk, which is really hard to miss after Scott's talk. Not that it was really a bad thing. It was normal for Derek to act a little stalker-like, and normal was something Stiles hadn't been getting a lot of lately. Plus, he found it oddly comforting to have someone looking out for him like that.

The full moon is two days away now and Stiles can no longer concentrate on anything. It feels a little like having ADHD again, but 10x more terrifying because Stiles knows it's not something he can't help, it's just that his fear is completely controlling him. And that just makes it worse.

He's had nightmares every night this week about the full moon. They all vary slightly, but in every one of them, Stiles kills everyone he cares about. He wakes up crying every time. And every time someone from the pack is there to comfort him. Even Boyd one night, which really said a lot about how bad the situation had gotten.

The day of the full moon Stiles is a complete mess. He can't bring himself to leave his room, so consumed by his thoughts and fears that he doesn't want to move. Scott keeps him company throughout the day. Not that Stiles really notices. He's too busy worrying about who he'd hurt tonight. And how badly. If Derek would be able to control him, or if he'd be entirely unmanageable.

If he'd kill someone, and not even realize it.

When the sun begins to set Stiles really starts to panic. He can feel himself shaking, can feel the sweat beginning to form on his skin. He's half way to a panic attack when Derek comes into the room, worry etched in his features.

"It's time." He says quietly, and Stiles thinks those two words are the worst he's ever heard in his life. But then Derek is reaching out to him, touching his shoulder, pulling him up and into his side tightly. Stiles is too scared to protest, can only take comfort in the warmth of Derek's side pressed against his, in the solid feel of Derek's arm wrapped around his shoulders, as they descend from Derek's room and into the basement.

Stiles stops short when he sees an empty set of chains in the wall, knowing already that they are for him. Derek gives him a sad but firm look, nodding towards them. Stiles allows Derek to chain him up, trusting that Derek knows what he's doing. For the time being, Stiles has reached a sort of calm acceptance, like the peace before a storm. It's only when the rest of the pack descends the stairs that that peace is shattered.

The chains rattle as Stiles startles, looking towards the staircase in horror. His eyes dart towards Derek, who has risen to greet everyone.

"Derek, no." He cries out, and the alpha turns back to look at him in confusion.

"T-they can't be here." Stiles continues, desperation in every word. "Please, Derek. They can't- it's not safe!"

Derek studies him for a moment, his next words sounding like they're meant to placate but instead they only scare Stiles even more.

"Stiles, they're here to help you...I am too." He says gently, and turns towards the stairs again. Stiles jerks at his chains uselessly, the panic coming back. The whole pack was coming down the stairs now, all piling onto sofas and some even sitting on the floor. Scott, Lydia, and Allison settle just feet from him and Stiles can't relax. Everyone seems to sense his distress, Scott even reaches out to touch him, but Stiles jerks away violently, his chains clinking noisily.

The minutes pass slowly as the pack waits for the sun to fully set. For Stiles, the waiting is almost agonizing, but it's nothing compared to when he starts to feel the shift closing in on him. It starts as a dull ache, barely there, unnoticeable until it becomes more painful rapidly. In minutes Stiles is panting. It hurts so badly, like nothing he's ever felt. It's like that feeling in his bones when he has the flu, only magnified 100 times over. At this point he's utterly terrified, hyperaware of himself and of all the people so close in proximity to him. He starts jerking against his chains when he feels a weird sensation in the structure of his face. He can feel the muscles and bones start to reshape themselves, and then his eyes feel like they're on fire, and he knows that they've changed too.

"Derek!" He calls out, terrified of whats happening to him, but even more terrified of himself and what he might do.

Derek is in front of him in a moment, alpha eyes glowing red in the now dark room.

"Stiles, you need to calm down." He says, and oh, how Stiles wishes he could. But he can see the entire pack staring at him in the confined space of the basement, is so aware of the chains holding him back, and of how trapped he feels. He can feel his control slipping away so rapidly that he doesn't even have a chance of getting it back.

"Derek," he pleads one last time, breaths coming out labored as he hangs on for as long as he can. "You have to get out of here, please!" He yells, jerking against his chains again as a wave of pain rips through his body.

"Stiles look at me." Derek says instead, and it feels like Stiles isn't being heard at all. His breaths get impossibly heavier and his mouth begins to hurt.

"We're not going anywhere." Stiles hears Derek say, and the last ounce of his control is gone. Something snaps in him and his wolf takes over. His fangs burst out of his gums and his bones all snap into realignment simultaneously as the shift completes itself.

Stiles sees red now, any semblance of rational thought torn to pieces by his fear and the uncontrollable rage that it facilitates. He pulls forcefully on the chains now, his mind screaming for one thing; freedom. Vicious snarls tear through Stiles, and he nearly foams at the mouth with the effort. In a matter of seconds, the bolts anchoring the chains to the wall come loose, screeching against concrete as Stiles rips them out of the foundation.

Nobody has time to react as he leaps at the first thing he sees. Derek staggers back as Stiles launches himself into him, but Stiles doesn't realize what he's doing. His instincts scream for him to tear, shred, destroy whatever is in his way, and it blinds him from understanding what's happening. He pounces on Derek knocking the older male to the ground. The pack all jump forward at the same time, but Derek stops them, giving a signal for them to back off.

Stiles is on top of Derek now, and he growls again as he raises a clawed hand in preparation to strike the alpha. Derek braces for impact as Stiles swings his arm. But the impact never comes. Stiles' arm falters mid-swing, and he makes an agonized sound, as if he's been struck. He grasps his hair between his hands, ignorant of the blood that his claws draw, and squeezes his eyes shut as he convulses in agony. His back arches, and then he curls in on himself, seeking desperately to escape the pain. Then, all at once his body relaxes, the shift pulls back, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he loses consciousness.

 **Pt.6**

The most frustrating thing about nightmares is that Stiles always knows when he's in one, but it does nothing to help. It's like being forced to watch a horror movie, only this horror movie is specifically tailored to Stiles' worst fears. He's trapped in his own mind, which currently has decided to torment him with events of the past.

He watches from somewhere above as his past self lashes out at Erica. He sees the way her eyes spark with fear. The way her face shifts in sadness and confusion and terror for him. Terror of him too. All this, he hadn't been able to process at the time, but now his brain is playing it back for him, and he sees everything he missed.

He sees Scott's look of utter betrayal when he bites that chunk out of his arm. Sees the way his best friend's jaw falls slack in shock.

His mind fast-forwards to re-watch as his father stops him at the bottom of the stairs. The fear for Stiles shifting into fear of him as Stiles snarls nastily, not even hesitating as he sends his father flying across the room. Stiles hears the thunk as his father's head hits the wall, sees the way his body falls listlessly to the floor.

Stiles wants to scream. He wants so badly to make this stop. He wants to wake up, to escape this hell his own mind has created. This place that takes all his mistakes and magnifies them, picks them apart and throws it back in Stiles' face. But his mind has other plans.

Time skips forward again to when he wolfed out in the basement. Stiles watches as all his friends' faces mix with fear and shock as he rips free of the wall. He sees when they all jump forward to attack him as he jumps on Derek. He sees when Derek stops them, and he wants to scream then, to tell Derek how stupid he is for doing that, but his mind doesn't give him time to think further on it. His past self raises a clawed hand, and Stiles feels dread, horror, at watching what this version of himself is about to do. His other self brings his claws down, slashing across Derek's throat. Derek gurgles as the blood flows out of the laceration, his green eyes glossy with tears, but focused solely on Stiles. Derek convulses underneath Stiles' other self for a moment more, and then stills suddenly. His eyes cloud over and his head lolls to the side, and he dies.

And that's when Stiles wakes up. He screams loudly as he jolts upright, shaking uncontrollably. He looks wildly around the still dark room he's in, trying to figure out what had happened since the last time he'd been awake.

Something touches his shoulder suddenly, and Stiles immediately jumps, scrambling away from it. His wide eyes flash yellow as he partially shifts out of fear. When his eyes lock with Derek's, Derek flashes his red and Stiles blinks, his eyes returning to normal. Stiles looks around then, noticing for the first time that he's on Derek's bed again.

"D-derek..?" He says, his voice wavering. "What? I thought I...The blood...how are you not dead?" He shakes his head, still shaking despite the relief he feels at knowing he hadn't killed Derek.

The older male gives him a confused but worried look, and Stiles is so lost as to why Derek is here with him after what he'd done. At how he can be this close when Stiles could snap and kill him at any second.

"I'm fine." Derek says slowly, then pauses. "I don't think you are though. You were screaming in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?"

Stiles pales visibly at the question, heart rate picking up again slightly as he thinks back to his nightmare. The images flash in his memory and taunt him even while awake, and Stiles starts trembling again.

"Whoa, hey," Derek says, sitting up, "Stiles, it's ok, you're safe."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Stiles responds, his eyes glossing over with tears, as he continues to shake uncontrollably.

Derek pauses at this, trying to understand what Stiles could possibly mean by that. He wasn't scared for his own safety? So then what was that nightmare?

"What do you mean?" Derek asks slowly, doing his best not to spook Stiles, who looked like he was ready to bolt any second now.

"I mean, I'm scared _I'll_ hurt someone, Derek." He says, turning his head away. Derek smells the salt in the air as the first tear falls, and Stiles still hasn't stopped shaking. If anything it's getting worse.

Derek moves closer to Stiles, but as soon as he touches the boy he flinches away violently.

"Don't!" Stiles cries, "I don't want to hurt you, Derek, not again!"

Derek tilts his head sideways in confusion.

"Stiles you didn't hurt me." He says without hesitation.

Stiles pauses in shock, though continuing to tremble.

"W-what?"

"You didn't hurt me, Stiles. You stopped before you could."

Derek says again, his steady heartbeat never faltering.

"Is that what you were dreaming about?" He asks, shock evident in his every word. "You were dreaming that you would hurt the pack again?"

Stiles nods rapidly, and curls into himself, pulling his head between his knees. He starts to sob quietly, small, broken sounds that physically hurt Derek to hear.

"Stiles.." Derek pleads, reaching out towards the boy again. His first attempt garners the same reaction from before; Stiles flinches away from any kind of contact. But Derek is stubborn so he tries again. His fingertips graze over the nape of Stiles' neck and this time the boy tenses, but doesn't move away. Derek takes that as a good sign and continues. He caresses the curve of Stiles' spine soothingly, his fingertips gliding smoothly along the boy's pale, soft skin. After a while, Stiles relaxes into the touch, his sobs subsiding. He lets out a shuddering breath as Derek swipes up his side, the scent of pleasure filling the air, slightly diluting the scents of fear and sadness. Derek smiles and does it again, feeling proud of himself when Stiles lifts his head up and lowers his knees to look at him.

His eyes and lips are puffy from crying, and his cheeks are still wet with tears. Derek can't help but stare. He lifts his hands and slowly places them against Stiles' cheeks. He wipes away the tears underneath Stiles' eyes with the pads of his thumbs, and Stiles closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath.

"Stiles look at me." Derek says quietly.

He's reluctant at first, but after a pause Stiles does as he's told.

His eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes, and is immediately met with the sight of Derek's vibrant, almost mesmerizing red eyes.

"You won't hurt the pack, or me. You need to trust yourself more." Derek says, and Stiles can feel it lick through his very bones, like some kind of strange chemical reaction. It's half command, half wisdom, and it makes something in Stiles give out.

He collapses forward, his forehead meeting with Derek's chest. Derek scoops Stiles up in his strong arms, setting him down in his lap and cradling the boy to his body. One hand Derek places against the side of Stiles' head, and the other he moves to the boy's ribs, rubbing small circles there with his thumb. Stiles lifts a hand to grip the material of Derek's shirt and nuzzles into the warmth Derek's neck provides. The heartbeat under his ear and the way Derek strokes his side is comforting. After a while, Stiles can feel the exhaustion creeping in on him again, but before he falls asleep, a thought occurs to him.

"Hey, Derek?" He says quietly, and the older male hums in reply. "I don't blame you, you know.. For giving me the bite...You saved my life..So just please don't beat yourself up about it, ok?"

Derek's heart skips a beat and he freezes ,the movement of his thumb on Stiles' side pausing momentarily. Then, he lets out a breath and speaks quietly.

"Ok." Is all he says, but that's all Stiles really needs to hear. He lets sleep envelop him, feeling safe and cared for in Derek's embrace.

 **Pt. 7**

The next day, Derek decides that the pack needs training. The full moon has got everyone on edge, and he figures a little exercise will help with that. He lets the pack sleep in a little after the events of the night before, but by 11 o'clock everyone is outside and ready to go.

After going for a 3 mile run through the woods, Derek sets up sparring matches in the clearing at the back of the house. He pairs Scott with Erica for the first fight, Scott making a valiant effort before ultimately being taken down by the fierce blonde. Stiles laughs when Erica sticks her tongue out at Scott, and Derek's mouth quirks up slightly at the sound. It was good to hear, especially given the state the boy had been in last night.

Next, Cora and Lydia face off, and Lydia wins almost too easily. Her lessons in martial arts were clearly starting to pay off, and were a deadly combination with her lightning fast reflexes and cunning.

Boyd and Isaac face off against Aiden and Ethan, which ends in a draw unsurprisingly. Then Allison and Scott spar next, and Scott gets his ass handed to him again. Scott huffs in frustration, but can't stay mad for long because it's Allison, and everyone knew he didn't really mind that she could beat him. It meant she could protect herself, and that was more important to Scott than his pride.

And to Stiles's displeasure, that left him to face off against Peter. The older wolf grins at him unsettlingly as they prepare to fight. Stiles is calculating and analyzing every step Peter takes, so he easily dodges the first attack. Surprisingly though, Stiles is also able to dodge every attack that follows. As a human he'd been clumsy and slow, but his small, lean frame made him lightning fast as a wolf. His physical speed and mental sharpness made him nearly untouchable. It was with both surprise and great pleasure that Derek found Stiles to be the fastest in the whole pack. But that speed couldn't last forever, and finally Peter manages to clip one of Stiles' Achilles tendons with his claws, severing it completely. Stiles falls to the ground with a cry, swiping at Peter as he comes closer, and managing to rake his claws across Peter's face. He quickly springs out of reach again, doing his best to stay upright on only one leg.

Peter gives him a chilling look, wiping the blood from his cheek slowly, before starting to circle Stiles predatorily. When he lunges, Stiles is able to dodge the blow, ducking under Peter's arm and ending up behind him. But in his attempt to avoid the first strike he's distracted from seeing the second. Peter's claws hit him right in his side, simultaneously knocking the breath out of him and tearing through his flesh. Stiles is sent flying sideways, landing a few feet away and feeling the blood leaking from his mouth. He gasps painfully, clearly defeated, but Peter isn't stopping. He just keeps coming at Stiles, now merely feet away from him.

Suddenly, Derek's massive form flies in between Peter and Stiles, blocking Peter's advance. Derek growls low in his throat in a way that frightens Stiles, even though it isn't directed at him. When Peter merely smirks, taking another step forward, Derek completely loses it. The shift happens so fast Stiles barely sees it, and then Derek lets out the loudest roar Stiles had ever heard. Stiles cringes, the volume and fury of the noise making him shudder. This time Peter's face pales a little, and he steps back, turning slightly sideways and bowing his head in submission. The rest of the pack simply stares on in shock at what had just happened.

Stiles on the other hand is too preoccupied to care. He's having a hard time breathing, taking in sharp gasps of air that don't seem to be helping at all. Peter's claws had pierced deep enough to puncture his lungs slightly. His vision is starting to blur a bit, and the wet, warm liquid running down his side is starting to make him feel sick.

"Derek.." He croaks, panic finding its way into his voice. He clutches at his side helplessly, a high pitched keening noise leaving his lips as the pain only seems to intensify.

Derek turns quickly, returning to his human form as he drops to Stiles' side. His green eyes are wide with worry, but Stiles finds them comforting anyways, somehow. Derek's mouth is moving but Stiles can't really understand what he's saying, it's like everything is moving in slow motion, but also too fast at the same time. One moment he's on the ground looking up at Derek's eyes - when had they gotten _that_ green?- and the next he's being lifted by two strong arms. He lays his head against the warm chest he's being cradled to, taking comfort in the strong heartbeat within, even if that heartbeat is kind of fast to be considered soothing. Weakly, Stiles grips the person's black shirt between his fingers. He's aware that they're moving, but where to he doesn't really know until he's being placed on something soft that smells like a mixture of Derek, pack, and himself. _Derek's bed_ , Stiles registers weakly.

Said alpha's face comes into view above him then, drawn tight with worry. Gently, Derek lifts his hand towards Stiles. When Stiles sees where he's going he flinches away violently, whimpering in protest.

"Shh," Derek soothes, instead placing his hand against Stiles' cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin there reassuringly.

Stiles calms momentarily, blearily understanding that Derek is only trying to help. He closes his eyes and nods, feeling Derek's hand slip away from his face and down to his injured side. Derek tears the already destroyed fabric of Stiles' shirt away before gently placing his hand to the side of the wound. Stiles hisses and jerks as Derek's fingertips touch the edge of his wound, but soon relaxes as he feels the pain leaching out of him. He feels heavier, and it's starting to get hard to keep his eyes open. The last thing he sees before slipping into unconsciousness is the black flowing through the veins in Derek's arm.

Derek draws away as much of Stiles' pain as he can handle, watching as Stiles' grip on the bedsheets gradually lessens. The boy's long, thick eyelashes fan out across his cheeks as he blinks slowly, fighting off sleep for as long as he can. Finally, Stiles gives in, letting out a sigh as his breathing evens out and his muscles go lax.

Derek breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that Stiles will be fine. Peter would have to be dealt with, but that could wait until later. There was blood all over the blankets (and all over both Stiles and himself), and Stiles' wound looked like it would need some bandaging, at least for now. So Derek got to work, first tearing the remnants of Stiles' shirt away, because at this point it wasn't salvageable. Once that's out of the way, Derek cleans and dresses Stiles' wound. He gently wipes away the blood, even going so far as to clean up the blood from Stiles' now healed ankle wound.

He wipes the blood off of himself too, and then gently pulls the blankets and sheets off of the bed. Somehow Derek manages to change the sheets, and put a new comforter on the bed without waking Stiles. He tucks the blankets around the sleeping teen softly and turns to leave, but a hand shoots out from under the covers to grip Derek's wrist.

Derek turns back to look at Stiles in uncertainty. The boy mumbles something incoherently, but his eyes are still closed. Despite this, his grip tightens on Derek's wrist the more Derek tries to leave. When Stiles lets out a hurt sounding whine, Derek finally gives up.

He climbs into bed next to the boy, careful not to touch him. Clearly Stiles' subconscious has other plans though, because he rolls over onto his uninjured side and burrows into Derek, his head comfortably nestling into the crook of Derek's neck.

Derek stiffens as the boy curls around him, unsure of what to do. He wasn't sure Stiles would actually be ok with this, if he were conscious at the moment, that is. The hand Stiles has on Derek's chest grips his shirt tighter and the boy mumbles in his sleep again, nuzzling further into Derek's neck. Derek decides he'll just deal with the consequences.

He relaxes into the bed, pulling Stiles in closer. The boy breathes out happily in his sleep, which both shocks Derek and makes him incredibly happy. Derek smiles softly, running his fingers through Stiles' hair. Stiles hums and curls around Derek like a cat, and Derek can't help how adorable he thinks it is. He wishes Stiles would be this tactile all the time.

When Stiles starts to stir about an hour later, Derek tries to move away gently. He isn't sure how Stiles will react to waking up like this yet again, but every other time it hasn't turned out so well. When Stiles opens his eyes finally, Derek is sitting up on his side of the bed, back resting against the headboard.

Stiles's eyes slide over him, seeming to contemplate something before he shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts away. He sits up slowly, wincing slightly as he does so, which Derek can't help but react to. His hand flashes to Stiles' shoulder, leaching the pain before the younger wolf can register it.

The teen's shoulders lose their tension and he nods appreciatively in Derek's general direction, but doesn't make eye contact. Derek finds that a little odd for Stiles, but doesn't comment on it, instead asking how Stiles feels.

"I'm fine." Is the answer he gets, brown eyes never leaving the spot on the bed covers that Stiles has been staring at purposefully since waking up.

"Stiles...what's wrong?" Derek says.

Stiles' immediate reply is "Nothing." But the boy's heart skips a beat. He's lying, but Derek doesn't need to hear his heartbeat to know that.

"Why do you do that?" Derek asks quietly, and Stiles furrows his eyebrows but still doesn't look at the older male.

"Do what?"

"Lie, even though you know I can tell you're lying."

Stiles doesn't say anything so Derek continues.

"Stiles, I know something's wrong. You haven't made eye contact with me since you woke up five minutes ago."

Stiles still doesn't speak, and Derek gets agitated. He gets up to leave, deciding maybe Stiles is back to just not wanting him around anymore, but Stiles catches his sleeve.

"Derek, what are we?" He asks, barely above a whisper, and the question catches Derek completely off guard.

"What?"

Stiles shakes his head back and forth in frustration, his grip on Derek's sleeve tightening.

"It just doesn't make sense, Derek. Before I turned you were never this _nice_ to me. It was always just 'shut up, Stiles' or 'I'm going to rip your throat out, with my teeth' and now it's you at my bedside, and catching me when I fall off stools, and worrying about me enough to always have tabs on my emotional well being. And then what just happened with Peter... You didn't have to protect me like that, but you did, and you seemed genuinely furious at him for hurting me. Murderous even. And I just don't understand what changed. Or why you're acting like this." Stiles rants, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. When he starts to talk again, his big brown eyes raise to meet with Derek's.

"And I remember what happened last night," he says, dropping Derek's sleeve finally. " I was going to kill you, I really was, and then when I tried I got this _excruciating_ pain in my head, and I physically couldn't do it. That has to mean something, Derek. And I know that didn't just happen because you're my alpha. I asked Scott. So it has to mean something else, but I can't imagine what, and I jus-"

"You're my mate, Stiles."

The room is dead silent for a moment as Stiles processes what Derek has just said, and Derek watches his reaction calculatingly.

At first Stiles just gapes at him, mouth still half formed into the word he was saying when he was interrupted. Derek looks completely and totally serious about this, but Stiles can't believe what he's just heard. This has to be some kind of sick joke, only Stiles doesn't think it's very funny.

"Don't fuck with me, Derek." He says warningly.

"I'm not." comes Derek's reply, almost as soon as Stiles has finished talking. Derek still looks serious, and at this point Stiles is starting to get angry, but also a little freaked out.

"Derek, cut the shit." He says, but Derek just stands there, expression the same, and he repeats himself.

"You are my mate, Stiles. I'm not lying and you know it."

"Maybe you learned how to lie without being detected." Stiles bites back, and now Derek just looks frustrated. He sighs dramatically, and then gets serious again.

"Stiles, what are your favorite scents?" He asks, and Stiles scrunches up his nose in a look that says 'what the hell?'.Derek rolls his eyes.

"Just answer the question." He grits out, and Stiles raises his hands in mock surrender.

He thinks for a moment before realization dawns on him. He sniffs the air tentatively, stiffening when he understands what Derek is getting at. It's Derek's scent. Derek smells like all of Stile's favorite scents mixed in one. Stiles had read about mates back when Scott had first gotten turned, just out of curiosity, and he distinctively remembered reading something about this sort of thing.

"Derek..." He says, now really starting to freak out. He can't be Derek's mate. He tried to kill him for god's sake! Derek deserves better than that, and Stiles knows it. Derek is kind, despite his unfriendly demeanor. He cares more than a lot of people realize, a by-product of having had such a hard life. And Stiles was already a mess as a human. He's even more of a mess as a werewolf, and he can't do that to Derek. Can't tie him down to someone so broken and unworthy of him.

Stiles' eyes fill with tears, and he looks up at Derek fearfully, breaths coming out ragged and labored. Derek's arm moves towards him, but Stiles bolts before Derek can touch him. He ducks underneath Derek's arm, dodging him narrowly as he maneuvers his body to get by. His lungs ache as he starts running, not fully healed yet from Peter's attack. In a matter of seconds Stiles is out the front door of the Hale house, running through the forest as fast as he possibly can. He can hear Derek calling out to him, following close behind him.

The dead leaves and mud slide under Stile's bare feet as he runs, and he pushes himself to go faster, to get away. To escape. From what he's actually not sure, but his instincts have kicked into overdrive, and right now they're screaming at him to go faster. So Stiles works his body harder, pushes his feet against the ground with more power. He can hear Derek getting closer now, and it scares him. He knows he's not at his peak, his lungs still recovering from injury, but he runs still.

Stile's is so focused on his running that he doesn't realize how close Derek has actually gotten until it's too late.

Derek's larger form tackles him from behind, both males ending up on the forest floor. Stiles is pinned underneath Derek, who holds the teen's wrists down in his firm grip.

"Stop running!" Derek yells, but with no real anger. He deflates almost instantly after shouting, his head falling onto Stiles shoulder.

"Goddammit, Stiles." He breathes, and it sounds so hurt, so defeated that Stiles can't help but feel guilty. He's let someone down again, but he can't say he's very surprised. Stiles never seemed to do anything right.

For a few moments, the two of them just lie there, catching their breath. Derek's grip on Stiles' wrists doesn't let up, and his body heat is seeping into Stiles from where he rests on top of him. After a while Derek raises his head up, making eye contact with Stiles.

"You've got to stop running from me." He says softly, "I'm not sure I can take much more."

Stiles blinks up at Derek in shock, and Derek lets go of one of his wrists so he can stoke Stiles' cheek gently. Stiles shudders at the touch, fear and shock otherwise paralyzing him.

"I know you wont believe me, but I've known you were my mate since I met you," Derek continues, " I just didn't know how to tell you...and I thought you deserved someone better, so I tried ignoring it. But then I almost _lostyou_. And I couldn't just ignore it anymore. I had to be close to you somehow. I couldn't take it anymore."

Derek's thumb moves in calming swipes across Stiles' cheek, and Stiles realizes now why he always runs from Derek's touch. Derek had the ability to make Stiles completely and utterly powerless, just by touching him. Stiles melted into Derek's touches, became like putty in his impossibly warm and comforting hands. Derek's other hand comes to hold the other side of Stiles' face, and Stiles feels utterly helpless to move. How can he possibly run now, when Derek is being so careful with him, so gentle, like Stiles is the most precious thing on earth.

"I need you," Derek breathes, "I need your constant babbling about literally every possible subject. I need the way you can never sit still, and your never ending questions. I need the way you mumble in your sleep. Your laughter, one of my favorite sounds. Your scent; honey, and brown sugar, and home, and _family_. I need the way you hold the pack together. I need the way you hold _me_ together. I just need you, Stiles.

So please...please don't run."

With that Derek lets go of Stiles completely, getting up off of him and taking a step back. He looks at Stiles hopefully, but otherwise doesn't move. Stiles sits up slowly, staring back up at Derek, who seems to be waiting for something.

It's then that Stiles realizes. Derek is giving him a choice, and he's waiting for Stiles' decision. Stiles looks at the ground for a moment, his heart pounding anxiously.

Derek wasn't kidding about being his mate. This was real. Derek's feelings were real. But then what about his own feelings? Stiles thinks back to before the bite, and how he'd always admired Derek from afar, so to speak. How he'd wanted to be closer to the man. He remembered knowing even then that Derek's cold exterior was a shield he hid behind, and that Derek was actually one of the kindest people he knew. Then he thinks about after the bite; he remembers how caring and attentive Derek had been specifically towards him. And Stiles really doesn't know if anyone had ever paid him that much attention, besides his parents of course. He remembers how it felt waking up in Derek's arms, warm, and safe, and loved. He remembers Derek's rare, but beautiful smile, and how he would love to see more of it.

 _Yes_ , Stiles decides. His feelings were real too.

Shakily, Stiles gets to his feet. His heart still pounds ridiculously in his chest, and he wills himself not to run from this. Not to run from the one person who could really, truly make him happy. Stiles looks up cautiously into Derek's jade green eyes, seeing the hope and adoration reflected in them, and it terrifies Stiles to have someone want him this much.

Despite this, the boy takes a slow step forward, reaching out towards Derek, and clutching the thin material of his tshirt between his long, slender fingers. Derek stares back at him patiently, though his heart rate is steadily increasing.

"I won't run." Stiles says softly, and that's all the permission Derek needs. The older man pulls Stiles into his chest as close as he possibly can, and kisses him. Stiles feels his knees go weak, and he falls forward into Derek, wrapping his arms around the alpha's neck to hold himself up. Derek crushes their lips together with almost enough force to bruise, but Stiles loves it. He gasps as Derek pulls at his bottom lip, giving the older male the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into Stiles' mouth. Derek tastes like mint and coffee, and Stiles can't get enough. The older male pulls Stiles even tighter to his body, running his hands up and down the boy's bare sides. His hands slide around to Stiles' lower back, and he moans involuntarily when Derek runs his hands over his butt briefly. Derek growls in satisfaction, disconnecting their lips with a pop, and nosing down Stiles' neck. He sucks at the skin where the boy's neck and shoulder meet, sliding his hands around Stiles sides and over his butt at the same time. Stiles can't help the breathless gasp that leaves his lips, or the moan that follows when Derek sucks on the spot just behind his ear. By now Stiles legs are absolutely useless. Not that he really minded, he wasn't planning on running anyways. But he's starting to feel the exhaustion catching up to him, his eyelids drooping with every wet kiss Derek places to the side of his neck.

Stiles pushes at Derek's chest weakly, smiling softly at Derek's concerned expression. The older male glances up and down Stiles' body quickly, running his hands everywhere in search of injury, and Stiles laughs.

"I'm fine," he says, and nuzzles into Derek's chest tiredly.

Derek seems to get the idea, and the next thing Stiles knows he's being lifted and cradled to Derek's chest like a baby. He falls asleep to the sound of his mate's heartbeat and comforting scent as he gets carried back to the house.

 **Pt. 8**

For the first time in weeks, Stiles wakes up feeling at peace. Derek's body is warm pressed against his, and his presence alone is comforting to him. Stiles sits up slowly, careful not to disturb the older male, who is still fast asleep.

For a moment Stiles just sits and wonders at how he, of all people, got lucky enough to have Derek Hale as his mate. Stiles is so ordinary, in his own opinion anyways, and Derek is wonderful. Derek is kind and thoughtful and caring almost to a fault. He tries so hard to be good for other people that he ends up hurting himself sometimes. He always looks out for everyone else before himself. _And_ _god_ , Stiles thinks, _god is he beautiful_.

Derek's dark eyelashes flutter against his cheeks in his sleep. His chest rises and falls peacefully, and his facial features are so much more gentle, more vulnerable, in sleep. He looks so much younger without the near constant frown and furrowed eyebrows.

Stiles reaches a hand out, carding his finger tips through Derek's surprisingly soft hair. To his surprise, Derek hums happily in his sleep, leaning into the touch. Then, a low rumbling sound starts emanating from Derek's chest that reminds Stiles a lot of a cat purring. Stiles smiles to himself, filing this newfound information away, before moving his hand down to hold the side of Derek's face. He runs his thumb in slow swipes across Derek's cheek, which, much like his hair, is also surprisingly soft where stubble doesn't cover it.

Derek mumbles something incoherent in his sleep, turning into Stiles' hand again. Stiles smiles in adoration and pride. Derek never let his guard down for anyone, and now here he was leaning into Stiles' every touch.

Stiles leans down carefully, gently placing a kiss to Derek's forehead. When he sits back up, Derek's eyebrows draw together slightly, and he moves his head to the side, facing Stiles. His eyelids flutter, and he blinks groggily as he wakes up. Derek's green-grey eyes look up at Stiles and a lazy smile spreads across his face. Stiles swears his heart stops for a minute before Derek pulls him down to lay beside him again.

He pulls Stiles body flush to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around the smaller boy and nuzzling into the top of his chocolate brown hair. The rumbling starts again and Stiles can't help but laugh happily. Derek squeezes him tighter when he hears that, and Stiles hugs him back, his smaller arms barely able to wrap all the way around Derek's massive form. He sighs contently when Derek starts to stroke up and down the center of his back.

"I love it when you do that," Stiles says softly into Derek's chest.

Derek hums in response, his fingertips slowing for a moment before continuing.

"My mother used to..." Derek trails off thoughtfully. "It was the quickest way to calm me down."

Stiles squeezes Derek tighter in understanding.

"My mom used to always sing to me," Stiles admits. "She wasn't the best, but it always worked."

"What song?" Derek asks.

"Nothing Else Matters by Metallica." Stiles chuckles.

"Really? Your mom liked Metallica?" Derek says in shock, pulling away slightly to look at Stiles' face.

"Yeah, she did," he says smiling, "She loved all kinds of music... I miss her a lot."

Derek just looks at Stiles for a moment, understanding exactly how Stiles is feeling. He leans his face closer to the boy, their noses brushing slightly. His eyes move from Stiles' eyes to his lips, and then he closes the distance between them. His lips pressing to Stiles' gently in a chaste kiss. They rest their foreheads against each other afterwards, just looking into each other's eyes.

It's peaceful, being alone together in Derek's bed. Here, it feels like all his problems just vanish, and Stiles never wants to leave.

But that thought is interrupted when Stiles yelps suddenly, a sharp pain jolting through him. Derek's eyebrows furrow in concern, and then the two of them turn to look outside. It's the middle of the night now, and the full moon is at its highest point in the sky. Stiles shudders fearfully in realization. He's shifting again, the pain amping up at an alarming rate, and he starts to panic slightly. Stiles' momentary peace is shattered in a matter of seconds.

"Hey," Derek coos, holding Stiles face with both hands, "Stiles, you're ok. We're going to get through this."

"Derek..." Stiles grits out, pushing against the alpha's chest in an attempt to pull away from him. But Derek isn't letting him go, instead pulling Stiles closer.

"Don't, Derek!" Stiles cries, pushing away even harder. He looks at Derek desperately, tears brimming in his chocolate brown eyes.

"I don't want to hurt you." He says softly.

"You won't," Derek says confidently. "You couldn't even if you wanted to, remember?"

"You don't know that for sure."

Stiles pushes harder on Derek's chest, managing to break out of his hold. He stumbles out of the bed, backing himself up against the farthest wall, and sliding down to sit on the floor.

He can feel the familiar ache in his bones, the way his skin feels like it's crawling. His muscles shift around unnaturally, and Stiles hates it, but can't do a thing to stop it. And he knows this is only the beginning. He pulls at his hair, curling in on himself.

"Stiles." Derek says, and something in his tone has the boy's full attention immediately.

Stiles whips his head up to look at his mate, tears rolling down his cheeks. Derek's eyes glow fluorescent crimson in the darkness, as he studies Stiles calmly.

"You need to find an anchor." Derek says, his voice urging Stiles to calm himself, to think.

Stiles tries to concentrate, racking his brain for any kind of emotional tether. First he thinks of his mother, panicking when that causes his fangs to punch through his gums. He thinks of his dad instead, but that makes his eyes flare and his claws extend. Stiles roars in agony and frustration, but keeps trying.

Thinking of his loved ones makes Stiles feel less stable, so maybe he needs to think of something negative. Derek's anger is his anchor. So what if Stiles' was similar? He thinks of how he felt after he'd calmed down from his first shift, how awful he'd felt for hurting his friends. The gut wrenching feeling he'd had when he'd seen his dad, unconscious and bleeding on the floor. He feels his claws retract slightly, and his teeth recede.

 _Guilt_ , he realizes.

His anchor is _guilt_.

Stiles thinks of how he couldn't do anything to help his mother when she got sick. He thinks of how disappointed his father had been with him for lying to him all those months before he fessed up about the supernatural. He remembers how he'd made his dad lose his job. How he couldn't ever do enough, help enough, as a human. He remembers how Derek's face had fallen in disappointment and sadness when Stiles had pushed him away all those times.

Stiles' body shudders violently, and then stills completely. He looks down at his hands, relieved to see his claws have gone away. He can still feel the shift under his skin, but it's dormant, suppressed. It's controlled.

Stiles startles when he hears the bed creak as Derek stands up. The alpha steps towards him slowly, sinking down to kneel in front of him.

Derek reaches forward, touching the side of Stiles' face. He gently wipes away the tears, then traces over Stiles' eyebrow before simply cupping the boy's cheek. Stiles leans into Derek's hand, closing his eyes and breathing out shakily.

"You alright?" Derek asks softly, and Stiles opens his eyes.

He nods slowly, pulling at the front of Derek's shirt. He leans forward, resting his forehead against Derek's for a moment before kissing him tentatively. Derek kisses back right away, threading his fingers into Stiles' hair and bringing his free hand up to hold the one Stiles has clenched in his shirt.

They pull away after a moment, Derek moving to sit beside Stiles against the wall. He pulls the smaller wolf in to his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Stiles rests his head on Derek's shoulder, leaning into him. The moments pass in silence, but it's a peaceful silence. It's comforting because Derek is here with him, and nothing bad would happen to him as long as that was the case. Derek had proved that time and again.

Stiles doesn't know how much time has passed, but the sun is starting to rise when Scott bursts through the door, looking ruffled and panicked. His wide yellow eyes land on Derek, and he speaks so quickly even Stiles almost doesn't catch it.

"Derek! Hunters, I don't know how but they're outside the house. We didn't even know they were here until they started calling out demands!" Scott breathes heavily, trying to catch his breath.

"We can't see them, or smell them," he says, "Derek, we can't even hear them unless they want to be heard."

"How?" Is all Derek says and Scott shakes his head in disbelief.

"I don't know, but it's not good. And Derek...they're asking for you."

Derek's jaw clenches, his frown deepening in worry. He looks at Stiles briefly and then back to Scott.

"Stay with him," he orders his beta and Scott nods. He moves to get up, but Stiles latches onto him.

"Derek, no! I'm coming with you." He says, "You can't go out there alone, are you crazy?"

Derek takes Stiles' hands gently, speaking softly.

"I have to go," he says, "And you have to stay. I won't put you in that kind of danger. You're too important, Stiles."

He kisses Stiles' forehead, and Stiles can only watch as Derek then stands and moves to the door. He nods at Scott, who mimics the action and walks over to Stiles. Derek takes one more look at his mate, and then turns and makes his way outside.

He takes Erica, Boyd, and Isaac with him. They're his three best fighters, and he'd be damned if he didn't have them. The four of them step out onto the front porch, the silence of the early morning for once causing unease instead of peace. The hunters are nowhere in sight, and the wolves can't smell them either. Derek's hackles rise. Something isn't right.

"Make a move and you die." A voice rings out across the forest, and Derek looks down as a flash of red light catches his attention.

There's a red dot in the center of his chest, like someone is pointing a gun at him, but when he looks up all he can see is the forest. He glances to his betas, who all have dots on their chests too. They're basically sitting ducks right now, and Derek feels cornered.

"Alpha." The voice says, "You'll come with us, or your pack mates die. One by one. Step forward off of the porch, and get on your knees."

Derek hesitates, glancing around for any way out, but there's nothing. He sighs in defeat, stepping forward. Erica lunges forward to grab him, but a bullet whizzes by her face, just grazing the skin of her cheek. She clutches at her face, wincing in pain as the lacerated skin sizzles.

"Listen," Derek says, turning back to face his betas. "Don't try anything. The bullets are laced with wolfsbane. We can't see these hunters, can't hear them except when they want us to hear them, and we can't smell them. They have us beat, I have to go. So stay here, and don't do anything stupid."

Erica nods tearfully, stepping back and into Boyd's embrace. Isaac nods to Derek, stepping in closer to the other two betas. All three watch as Derek does as he's been told, descending the stairs, and dropping to his knees.

A beat of stillness and dead silence passes before a projectile comes flying out of the trees, lodging itself in Derek's neck. It's a dart, filled with some kind of yellow-green liquid. Derek falls forward almost immediately, and simply vanishes before his body even hits the ground.

 **Pt. 9**

Stiles and Scott are standing at the Derek's bedroom window looking out at the front yard. Scott really wasn't kidding when he said the hunters weren't visible. Even from this vantage point, Stiles can't see a thing. It looks like the forest is empty, but Stiles can sense something is off.

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he sees Derek begin to make his way down the porch stairs. Stiles knows Derek would never leave the safety of the house unless he knew where the threats were, and it was obvious he didn't. Something was wrong.

Stiles continues to watch anxiously, eyes widening in terror as Derek falls to his knees, and then vanishes into thin air. He shares a horrified look with his best friend before he takes off, sprinting through the house and out the front door.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac stand on the front porch still, looking almost as panicked as Stiles feels. Scott comes flying out the door right behind him, and the remaining pack members are soon to follow, crowding around the front door.

Stiles whips his head around in search of Derek. The weird sense Stiles had is gone, which makes him think the hunters must be gone too. But an even worse feeling fills its place. There's an ache in the center of his chest that makes it hard for him to breathe, or even to function, and he knows it's because Derek is gone. He can't explain it. He can just feel it somehow, that Derek is far from here, and in a great deal of danger. His wolf is going crazy at the thought of his mate being hurt, and Stiles is struggling to keep himself together, but he reigns himself in. He focuses on his guilt at not being able to protect Derek, and uses it as fuel to focus.

Stiles turns back around to face the rest of his pack, who all look lost and afraid at the moment. Derek was the alpha, and without him the pack had no direction. It seemed they didn't even have a second in command, though Stiles would've thought Scott or Isaac would step up. But both look just as lost as everyone else.

Stiles focuses on calming himself completely. He pauses for a moment, taking stock of the situation. After a moment, he draws a steady breath in, squares his shoulders, and stands tall. The pack all look to him suddenly, this simple act speaking of strength and direction. When Stiles has all eyes on him he speaks calmly, but with an edge of anger.

"We've got some planning to do." Is all he says, and stalks into the house, the rest of his pack following behind him.

When Derek wakes, the first thing he notices is the cold. Its freezing wherever he is, even for a werewolf. He opens his eyes blearily, adjusting to the dim lighting. He looks around after a moment noticing that he's been thrown into some kind of cell. What interests Derek the most is that the room is mostly made of rock. The floors and ceiling and three walls are made of rock, while the wall with the door is made of iron bars. The bars trap him in a moderately sized area. He had some room to walk around, surprisingly. Not that he really could, with the metal shackles around his wrists and ankles tethering him to the floor. Derek tugs at them experimentally, growling in frustration when they don't break. He eyes the iron bars wearily, reaching out to pull at them. He hisses and jerks back when his skin is burned on contact.

"Wolfsbane coated, solid iron bars." A voice says, and a moment later a man steps into view. He's older than Derek, probably in his early forties, and has a clean look to him that oddly irritates Derek. He's wearing hunter gear, but he has his hair gelled back stylishly, is clean shaven, and reeks of cologne. Derek crinkles his nose in distaste, standing and backing away from the cell door.

"Who the fuck are you?" He spits, and the man infuriates him even more when he smirks arrogantly.

"Language, Mr. Hale." The man tuts in lieu of answering, and paces in front of Derek's cell.

"Fuck off." Derek growls.

The man stops suddenly, shaking his head and making a tutting sound.

"Ah, Derek. You'd do well to learn that it's best not to disrespect me."

Derek watches in confusion as the man pulls a small electronic device from his pocket. He pushes a button on the box like object, and Derek falls to his knees, jerking violently as electricity flows from his shackles. The man holds down the button for a few more agonizing moments and then lets go, his neutral facial expression not once wavering.

Derek pants heavily, his body still shaking from the electrocution. He looks up at the man in hatred and anger.

"If you really must know, my name is Smith. Boring, I know, but I make up for it with my amazing personality!"

Derek really struggles not to roll his eyes in irritation. He doubts Smith would like it.

"What do you want from me?" He grits out instead, lacing as much venom into his words as possible.

Smith cracks his trademark, infuriating smile again, and Derek is past livid. He's feeling murderous.

"From you? Nothing really," The hunter says mockingly, "We just want to watch you suffer for a bit. See, your pack killed a few friends of ours, and we're not too happy about that. So we're betting on your pack coming to save you, and then we'll let you watch us kill them. One by one. We'll save little Stiles for last. Make a big show of it. He's your mate, isn't he?"

Derek presses his lips together, his fists clenching hard at his sides. Smith doesn't miss the movement, his smug smile growing wider in satisfaction.

"Oh, yes," he continues, "We'll save something real awful for Stiles. And when your poor little mate finally bites the dust, we'll let you go. Shouldn't be too new for you, hm, Derek? This will only be the second time you get your entire family killed."

Derek loses it then, his wolf ripping to the surface in less than a second. He roars viciously, launching himself at the cell door. The wolfsbane burns his skin, but Derek is too far gone to care. The metal bars creak as he throws himself against them again and again, but Smith is out of reach. He laughs cruelly, and walks away, back to where he'd come from.

When he's gone, Derek comes back to himself. Stepping back away from the door and sinking to his knees.

He couldn't go through losing everyone he loved again. To Derek, that was a fate worse than death. He prays that his pack won't find him.

 **Pt.10**

After 4 hours searching the woods around the Hale house, the pack finally picks up Derek's scent. Or rather, Stiles does, maybe because he knows it better than anyone else.

He'd recognize Derek's scent anywhere; pine needles, mint, light cologne, _comfort_ and warmth and an ever-present hint of sadness, all wrapped in one. There wasn't anything else quite like it, which would hopefully make it somewhat easy to follow now that the beginning of the trail was located.

Stiles stops when he finds it, thanking whatever higher power was looking out for him. He lets out a low howl, signaling his location to the others. Soon enough the pack has gathered around him, and they follow Derek's scent together.

A few minutes later, they come to a cliff overlooking a small pond below. A stream flows over the side of the cliff, forming a waterfall, which is where the hunters emerge from. The pack watches as five men come out from behind the waterfall. Derek's scent is headed in that direction, and it's obvious that's where he's being kept. But Stiles has no way of knowing how many hunters are actually here. The water dilutes scents, and drowns out any other sounds. He shakes his head in frustration, motioning for the pack to fall back.

They would need some help.

Derek is sure it's only been a few hours, but being cooped up like this, knowing what that monster of a hunter was going to do to his pack, was making time pass agonizingly slow. Though, that could also just be because it's freezing in this cave, and the pain from the electrocution hadn't entirely worn off yet.

Derek growls lowly just thinking of the arrogant man who had taunted him, nearly sees red when he thinks of Stiles so much as being _touched_ by him. He pulls against the chains binding him, trying again to break free. The chains jangle loudly and creak when he tugs at them, but they don't budge, and Derek lets out a yell. He startles tremendously when a small voice breaks the quiet of the cave.

"It's useless, you know, they're bound by magic."

The voice is female, it sounds small and gentle, and it's coming from directly in front of Derek's cell. He peers into the darkness wearily, flashing his eyes red to aid his sight.

In the cell across from his sits a small girl, her blue jeans torn and bloodied, bare feet beat to hell. She's shivering, her small frame only bearing a baby blue tank top. Her dark hair is tangled, and she looks gaunt, dark circles under her eyes and skin pale even in the darkness. She can't be more than fifteen years old, and seeing her here baffles Derek. She's beautiful and innocent looking, even covered in dirt and grime and blood. And she's so _young_. It just screams wrong on so many levels.

"Who are you?" He asks quietly, letting his eyes fade back to their normal green-grey color.

"My name is Mira."

"I'm Derek," Derek replies, and she nods. "Why are you here?" He asks gently, and Mira curls in on herself, hugging herself in an attempt to gain warmth.

"I'm a witch," she says, and Derek can smell the salt in the air, knows she's started to cry.

"The hunters make me cast spells for them...they killed my family and took me. It's been four years."

Derek nearly whines at that. This girl must have been so young, only a child when she was taken. Hell, still a child even now.

"Is that why we couldn't detect the hunters? They had you cast some kind of cloaking spell?" He asks, and Mira nods.

"I'm so sorry," she sobs, "I don't want to, but what they do to me if I disobey is awful. I can't.." She trails off, letting her forehead fall to her knees where they're hugged close to her body. Her shoulders shake soundlessly, and Derek's heart breaks even more.

"Mira look at me," he says, and the girl raises her head cautiously. " None of this is your fault, ok?"

She pauses momentarily, but then nods in understanding. She wipes at her eyes and looks back over to Derek.

"Do you think your pack will come for you?" She asks.

"I wish they wouldn't," Derek says quietly, " but yes, I do think they will come."

"Do you think they can beat the hunters?"

"I really hope so." Derek whispers.

Just then, footsteps echo down the hallway, and both Derek and Mira push back away from their cell doors. The man from earlier appears before Derek, and the alpha grits his teeth in annoyance. The smug grin is present as always, and all Derek can think about is how much he wants to just rip the look right off his face. Literally.

"Good news, Mr. Hale! Your pack has found you!" Smith says cheerfully, and Derek's heart sinks.

"They've fallen back for now, but we have reason to believe they'll strike soon. Which means we can finally start the show! Of course, I'll need a little help from this little lady here!" Smith continues, and Mira cowers away from him as he starts to unlock her cell.

"Leave her alone!" Derek hisses, fangs elongating and eyes flashing.

"My, my, Derek, have we not learned enough from last time?"

Smith presses the button on the small electronic box connected to his key ring, and Derek jerks and hisses on the floor as he's electrocuted again. The hunter holds the button down long enough so that by the end of it, Derek is breathing heavily, unable to even move.

"Hm." Smith mutters, tilting his head to the side. He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, returning to unlocking Mira's cell.

When he unlocks the door finally, he reaches in, grabbing the small girl by the upper arm.

She yelps in fear, and Derek growls.

"Derek!" Mira calls out, and Derek fights to sit up, to be strong for her.

"It's ok, Mira." He says, voice hoarse. "Just do what he says, my pack will be ok."

Mira nods hesitantly, tears falling from her blue eyes.

"On the contrary, Derek, but I do appreciate the heroism, even if it is for an atrocity," says Smith snarkily, and Derek scowls at him, "Well, we'll see you in a little while, little witch and I should really be going, got lots to set up before our friends arrive!"

And with that, Smith hauls Mira away, back the way he'd come from.

A short time later, footsteps echo down the hall again, which can only mean bad news.

Smith has returned again, and this time his smirk is downright wicked. He seems so unapologetically pleased with himself that it makes Derek feel sick.

"Guess who's here!" The hunter says, unlocking Derek's cell.

Derek tries to lunge at him as the door swings open, but his restraints keep him back. Smith chuckles at the effort, then presses the button to zap Derek with enough juice to knock him out.

When Derek comes to, he's out in a clearing, a small pond to his right, a waterfall behind it. He feels disoriented, like he's been drugged, and he most likely has been. He still has his shackles on, and they jangle slightly. Derek's eyes adjust slowly, but his world stops when he sees Stiles, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd on their knees in front of him with their hands behind their heads. There are about thirty hunters surrounding them, all with guns trained on them.

"Oh, Derek! You woke up just in time!" Smith says from somewhere behind him and Derek grunts in pain as his hair is grabbed, and he's tugged by his head to a spot closer to his pack mates. All of them look around the clearing, though for what Derek isn't sure. None of them seem to notice how close he is to them, though. Even Stiles doesn't seem to realize he's even there.

When Smith lets go of his hair, Derek turns his head to the side. He sees Mira a little ways from him, tears on her pale cheeks as she casts an incantation.

It's then Derek realizes. His pack mates can't actually see any of the hunters, or him. They walked in here completely blind.

"No." Derek says, "No!"

"Ohh, just you wait Derek! We haven't even gotten to the good part!" Smith says, straightening up.

Two men move in to restrain Derek, making sure he can't get to Smith. The hunter makes some sort of hand motion towards Mira, and her incantation changes slightly.

"Hello, Stiles. And friends!" Smith says and the wolves search for the source of the voice, even though Smith is standing directly in front of them.

"You know, it's kind of rude to hide from your guests." Stiles quips, and Smith seems taken off guard.

"Funny!" He chuckles, "I like you, Stiles! I can see why you and Derek work."

"Speaking of, I'd really like him back now if you don't mind," Stiles replies, amber eyes still blind to his captors, but he seems completely unconcerned about it. Derek, on the other hand, feels like he's falling apart.

"No can do, sorry kiddo." Smith says, and takes another step towards Stiles. Derek growls, struggling against his bonds and the hunters holding him back.

"Oh come on, " Stiles whines mockingly, "I mean, it can't be too much trouble, he's right there after all."

Stiles turns his head to look directly at Derek, a wide grin spreading over his face. Derek stops jerking suddenly, freezing in disbelief. Stiles winks at him, and then jumps up with the others, screaming "Now!", and springing into attack.

Derek watches as the rest of the pack; Cora, Peter, Scott, Allison, the twins, and Lydia, all emerge from the forest. They're followed by Sheriff Stilinski and a select few deputies, Chris Argent and a group of about ten of his allies, and lastly by Deaton, who seems to be chanting, just like Mira.

The hunters are too shocked to respond quickly, and Stiles and the others are able to dodge the bullets that come flying their way, they take out the few hunters in their immediate area, and the rest of the pack and its allies fight their way in. Derek watches in awe as chaos erupts around him.

He struggles against the men still holding him, but not for long. Moments after the initial attack, Peter and Cora come to his rescue. They dodge the bullets being fired at them easily, effortlessly taking out both men with a quick swipe of claws.

Deaton follows closely behind, tapping on Derek's shackles with some strange talisman, all the while still uttering enchantments. Derek's shackles burst open after the third tap with a crackle of sparks and the smell of ozone. Derek doesn't understand how or why that seemed to unbind the magic, but he isn't going to question it. He stands up, thanking his family and Deaton before searching the confusion for Stiles.

He sees the twins fighting off a few hunters with Alison and Lydia. The group takes them out quickly, moving on to the next fight. Scott and Isaac have teamed up and are effectively taking out more of the enemy, Cora and Peter are protecting Deaton, who seems to be casting a counter spell against Mira, Chris Argent and his group are all matched up one vs one with the enemy hunters, and the deputies are working to round up and handcuff all the defeated hunters. Derek sees Boyd and Erica fighting off Smith, and then he finally spots Stiles.

It all happens so quick. Derek sees Stiles, wolfed out and determined, unharmed, and for a split second he feels so relieved. But then he sees Stiles pounce on Mira, raising his arm to slash her throat.

"Stiles, no!" Derek screams, and the boy's eyes snap over to him from across the battle field.

At the same time, Smith somehow manages to knock both Erica and Boyd aside, raising his gun to aim straight for Stiles. Derek doesn't know how he does it, but somehow he gets to Smith before he can pull the trigger, tackling him to the ground and knocking the gun out of his hand. Derek, already fully shifted, slams the hunter into the ground, ripping out his throat in the same moment. He lets out a deafening roar, before his body slumps forward and the shift pulls back. He feels dizzy, and weak, but he pulls himself to his feet slowly. He turns to face Stiles, and is immediately met by his mate's embrace.

Derek lets out a sigh of relief, leaning some of his weight on Stiles, who holds on to him like a lifeline.

"Stiles, what about the fight-" he starts, but Stiles doesn't move at all.

"Shh, we had it won from the start." He says reassuringly.

"What about Mira?"

"Who?"

"The witch.."

"Oh, she's fine, I didn't realize she wasn't actually..evil, i guess. Sorry."

"It's ok.." Derek trails off, feeling weaker by the second.

When his knees give out, Stiles lowers them to the ground, letting Derek rest against him.

"God.." The younger male breathes out, " I was so scared for you."

Derek grips the back of Stiles' shirt weakly, his chin resting on the boy's shoulder.

"Mm." Is all Derek can manage, and Stiles holds him closer.

By now only a handful of hunters are left, and it's obvious they've surrendered. The rest, including those who cooperated, are taken into custody by the Sheriff and Chris Argent. Derek imagines this particular group had violated a lot of hunter codes, and he trusted that Chris would see that justice was served.

The rest of the pack are mostly unharmed, though Isaac did take a pretty nasty blow to the head that looked like it would take a while to heal. But they were ok. The pack had not only survived, they had won the fight, and all because of Stiles.

Derek sighs in relief, shifting to bury his face in the crook of Stiles' neck. Stiles cards his long fingers through Derek's hair. Derek's body goes lax as the exhaustion finally catches up to him, and he falls asleep to the sound of Stiles' heartbeat.

Stiles wakes up suddenly when he feels the bed jerk. He opens his eyes to see Derek sitting up, his heart rate spiking and breath coming out ragged. Derek frantically looks around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The last time he'd been awake it had still been light out and he'd been outside. Now it was the middle of the night and Derek had been moved in his sleep again. It was no wonder he was confused.

Stiles reaches out to him, touching his back gently. Derek startles at first when he feels Stiles wrap his arms around him from behind, but calms when he recognizes who it is. Stiles pulls him back to lay down on the bed, and nuzzles into the back of Derek's neck.

"You're ok," he whispers, placing a kiss there, "you're home."

Derek settles into Stiles embrace, his heart beat returning to normal.

"Where's the pack?" Derek asks quietly, his voice a little shaky.

"They're all downstairs in the living room. They didn't want to over crowd you after everything."

"So everyone's ok?"

"Everyone is fine, Derek," Stiles reassures him, "Even Mira. I invited her to stay here for a while. I hope that's ok?"

Derek nods, pulling Stile's arms around him.

"That's fine." Derek says, but he seems to pause, as if stopping himself from saying something.

Stiles strokes Derek's arm comfortingly, placing a few kisses along the back of his mate's neck, but Derek still seems tense.

"Derek? Talk to me," Stiles says "what's wrong?"

Derek seems to struggle with himself for a moment before he lets out a breath.

"That man..he was going to kill all of you," he starts, "He was going to kill the whole pack and let me live to suffer, all over again." Derek shudders involuntarily at the thought, closing his eyes tightly at the unpleasant memory of Smith taunting him with his worst fear.

Stiles studies Derek, trying to understand what he would need right now. It's simple though. Stiles pulls Derek impossibly tighter to his body, and then calls out to the pack.

Within seconds everyone comes spilling through the doorway. Then they all pile onto Derek's bed, somehow managing to all fit.

Isaac settles in front of Derek, nestling his head of curls into Derek's chest. Erica and Boyd settle in between Isaac's and Derek's shins, while Cora and Peter curl up on the opposite side of Isaac. Scott and Alison lie at Stiles' back, and Lydia and the twins lie towards the bottom half of the bed.

Derek is relieved that his pack has come to comfort and support him, but he can't help but feel like someone is missing. He looks around curiously, and stops when he sees Mira standing uncertainly in the doorway. He nudges Isaac slightly, and he looks up. Derek jerks his head in the direction of Mira, and Isaac seems to get the point. He shuffles backwards slightly, making room between himself and Derek.

Derek calls to Mira softly. The girl eyes the bed wearily, but takes a few steps forward. When she reaches the edge of the bed she shoots Derek another nervous look, but it's Stiles that finally wins her over.

"Just get up here," he says, laughing slightly, "I swear we won't bite. Derek might though. Be careful, he's not really a morning person."

Mira cracks a smile at that, carefully climbing over Erica and Boyd to settle in between Isaac and Derek.

Derek looks down at her for a moment, contemplating, before he seems to come to a conclusion. He leans towards her, speaking softly next to her ear. He's never been very eloquent with words, and though he knows the pack can still hear him, it seems better not to say this quite so loud.

When he leans back to gauge Mira's reaction, he's surprised to see her smiling, tears in her eyes.

"Yes!" She says immediately, hugging Derek.

Derek can feel Stiles smiling into the back of his neck.

"Welcome to the pack." His mate says fondly, and Derek feels at peace. With his pack surrounding him and his mate by his side, he falls asleep, his worries and fears put to rest.

 **Pt. 11**

It's the rain that wakes Derek. Its soft, rhythmic pattering on the window panes slowly pulling him from sleep. It's the only sound in the otherwise silent house, and Derek's bed is empty, where it was full the night before.

He sits up slowly, feeling his muscles shift around over newly healed wounds. He's in the middle of wondering where the pack has gone when he hears the clinking of dishes in the kitchen, and a familiar heartbeat.

Derek gets out of bed, making his way down the stairs quietly. He stops in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against it to watch Stiles, who is currently standing at the sink.

"Good morning," his mate says cheerfully, finishing up the dishes and turning to face him, leaning back against the counter. Stiles smiles widely, his amber eyes lighting up at seeing Derek.

Derek smiles fondly, crossing the room to be closer to Stiles. He stops in front of the boy, caging him in with his arms on either side of his body.

"Good morning," Derek breathes, and Stiles pecks him on the lips cutely, making Derek's smile grow.

"Where's the rest of the pack?" Derek asks.

"School, work, wherever. Everyone went off to do their own thing when they saw that you were ok." The younger replies.

So the house was empty, except for the two of them.

"Is that so?" Derek says suggestively, and Stiles smirks in response, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck.

"Mhm." He hums, and threads his fingers into Derek's hair, pulling him down into a kiss.

Derek puts his hands on Stiles's hips, lifting him up to sit on the counter. He steps in between Stiles' legs, and Stiles instantly wraps them around Derek's hips. Derek growls in satisfaction and nips at Stiles' lower lip, causing the boy to gasp. He trails his hands up and down Stiles' sides and back, knowing how much he likes it.

They break away from the kiss after several moments, panting for breath. Derek moves down to suck at the column of Stiles' neck. He nips at the skin just under the boy's jaw, and the boy jumps slightly before Derek laps over the spot with his tongue. He repeats the action all down Stiles' neck, and Stiles shudders, clinging on to Derek even tighter. When Derek sucks at the spot directly behind his ear, Stiles can't help the breathy moan that he lets out.

"Derek.." He breathes, and Derek shudders at the sound. He pulls away from his mate's neck, pressing their lips together again in a heated kiss. Stiles moves their hips together suddenly, and this time it's Derek who gasps in surprise.

Stiles takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue into Derek's mouth, and Derek groans at the feeling. The boy continues to rut against Derek, until the older wolf can't take it anymore.

Derek lifts Stiles again, grabbing his thighs and wrapping them around his body tighter. He breaks away from the kiss to carry Stiles up the stairs. When they reach Derek's bedroom, Derek presses Stiles up against the wall, attacking his mouth in a frenzy of _need_

and _want_ and _mate_.

Stiles tugs at the material of Derek's shirt, and Derek breaks away to pull the offending clothing article over his head. He tosses it to the side, relishing in the feeling of Stiles' touch on his abdomen. He presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes, letting his mate explore his body. Stiles presses tentative touches to Derek's abs, trailing his delicate fingers across the alpha's stomach and chest. He stops at Derek's throat, leaning up to press a kiss to the underside of Derek's jaw.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" Stiles whispers, and Derek opens his eyes.

"Not as beautiful as you."

Stiles rolls his eyes playfully.

"Now that was even cornier than what I said."

Derek smirks.

"I don't care," he says, and tosses Stiles onto the bed. Stiles laughs in surprise, squirming as Derek falls on top of him. He smiles up at Derek, who leans down to kiss him while slowly gathering the material of Stiles' shirt. He breaks away to pull it over the boy's head, taking a moment to admire the moles that speckle Stiles' body. Stiles squirms self consciously, and Derek catches him looking to the side in embarrassment.

" They're beautiful," he says softly, meeting Stiles' eyes before leaning down to press kisses to his abdomen. He laughs against Stiles' skin.

"It's like connect the dots." He says, and only laughs harder when Stiles' splutters above him, swatting at his head. Derek catches his wrist in his hand, kissing the soft skin there. He looks into Stiles' eyes for a moment, almost can't believe the adoration he sees looking back at him. And Derek feels so lucky that Stiles is his. That he got to have this selfless, smart, spastic, funny, beautiful person as his mate. And that he could love someone this much, when he didn't think it would ever be possible to.

Derek strokes the pad of his thumb over Stiles' wrist, bringing the boy's arm up to place a kiss to his knuckles.

"I love you." Derek says softly, and for once he isn't afraid of the reply, because he knows what it will be.

Stiles smiles beautifully, practically glowing.

"I love you." He answers.

Derek feels his heart swell with happiness, and leans down to pepper kisses all over Stiles' body. Stiles laughs as he does it, and Derek thinks it might be his favorite sound. Stiles laughter morphs into a surprised gasp as Derek strokes his sides suddenly. He continues to kiss along Stile's abdomen, then licks a trail up from his stomach and to his chest.

Stiles gasps again as Derek takes one of his nipples into his mouth. Derek swirls his tongue around Stiles' nipple, toying with it as Stiles arches off of the bed, muttering nonsensically.

He releases that nipple, trailing his tongue along to suck at the other.

"Nghhuuuh.." Stiles moans, eyes half lidded and lips puffy from being kissed so much.

Derek pulls away from Stiles' nipple, again trailing down the boy's stomach. He hooks his fingers in Stiles' jeans, tugging at them in question, and Stiles nods, lifting his hips so Derek can pull them off of his body.

He shucks his own pants while he's at it, the two of them left only in their boxers.

Stiles' eyes trail over Derek's bulge appreciatively, and he raises a hand to stroke down the older male's stomach to the waistband of his underwear. Derek shudders at the touch, immediately cooperating when Stiles tugs at the waistband in a way that suggests he wants them gone. Derek slides out of his boxers easily, tossing them aside with the rest of their clothes.

Stiles licks his lips in anticipation, eyes roaming the expanse of Derek's body. The boy sits up slowly, stroking down Derek's abs again. His eyes flicker from Derek's member to his eyes, and he inches closer to Derek's body.

Gently, he rests one of his hands on Derek's hip, using the other to take Derek in his palm. Derek closes his eyes at the contact, bringing one hand up to card through his mate's hair. Stiles kisses the juncture just below the hard lines of Derek's hips, before licking a trail up his cock. Derek bites his lip, his fingers gripping at Stiles' hair.

Stiles' repeats the action, and then takes the tip of Derek's throbbing member into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around Derek's head,spurred on by the low moan Derek lets slip through. Stiles moves up and down on Derek's cock now, creating a steady rhythm and using his hand to stroke whatever he can't fit into his mouth. Derek lets out these beautiful, shocked sounding noises that Stiles thinks he could listen to forever, and tightens his grip on his hair. Stiles picks up his pace, wanting to hear Derek absolutely lose it, just come undone, all at Stiles' hands.

"Unh..Stiles, gotta st- ah..stop, or...gonna cum." Derek gasps out, and Stiles takes him as far into his mouth as he can, humming in the back of his throat. Derek shudders, shooting his load into Stiles' throat and crying out Stiles' name.

Stiles swallows, pulling off of Derek, who collapses to the side. He smiles down at his mate, who looks absolutely wrecked, and can't help the pride he feels at being able to do that to Derek.

"You're in for it," Derek mutters, chest still heaving as he comes down, "In like...three minutes."

Stiles laughs evilly, peppering kisses to Derek's chest and face.

"I'm terrified." He says, smirking. Derek grins back at him.

"You should be," he says, eyes trailing up and down Stiles' body. "Oh the things I'm gonna do to you..."

Derek bites his bottom lip seductively, and Stiles eyes are drawn to the motion immediately. He's watching Derek's lips so intently that Derek catches him by surprise, flipping him over onto his back and placing himself over Stiles' body.

Derek trails kisses from the underside of Stiles' jaw all the way down his torso, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. His jade green eyes look up at Stiles', who watches him curiously. Derek smirks, and then he takes the fabric between his teeth, and pulls it down and off of Stiles' body.

Derek looks Stiles' over appreciatively, loving the way his mate's cheeks and chest are flushed. Stiles breaths are coming out shaky, and his pupils are so dilated Derek almost can't see the thin sliver of his amber irises. Derek strokes a hand down Stiles chest and stomach, eliciting a shudder, and lowers himself to place tantalizing kisses to the insides of Stiles' thighs. Then, he finally wraps his lips around Stiles' member, creating a slow but steady rhythm.

"Uunhh.." Stiles moans, throwing his head back. He fists the sheets at his sides when Derek does something incredible with his tongue. Derek does the thing again, loving the way Stiles moves into it, his lithe body arching off of the bed.

"Ah! Derek, don't-don't stop." Stiles pants chest heaving with arousal.

Derek pulls off with a pop, and Stiles cries out at the loss of contact, but Derek shushes him.

"Shh, just hold on, I promise it'll be worth it," he says, carding his fingers through Stiles' hair. He leans over, pulling out the drawer of his nightstand and shuffling around in it. He pulls out a few things, dropping a square packet onto the bed beside him, and opening the bottle of lube. He squirts a decent amount onto his fingers, then drops the bottle next to them.

Derek leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' lips. He moves his free hand to spread Stiles' legs further, and brings the other up to brush against his entrance. Stiles stiffens on contact, a scared sounding noise falling from his lips.

"Hey," Derek croons, cupping Stiles's face soothingly. "I promise I'll take care of you. Do you trust me?"

Stiles looks into Derek's eyes, nodding slowly. Derek smiles, then burrows his face into Stiles' neck.

"I've got you, don't worry." He whispers, mouthing at Stiles' neck, while simultaneously stroking around Stiles' hole. He pushes one finger in experimentally, pulling out again when Stiles tightens up. The boy clings to Derek, hands burried in the soft, dark hair of his head. He gasps when Derek pushes his finger in again, but this time the feeling isn't all that unpleasant. Derek works his finger in and out of Stiles, adding another when he thinks Stiles is ready. Stiles draws an unsteady breath in, moaning softly when Derek pushes in up to his knuckles. Derek moves back up to capture Stiles' lips with his own, pulling out and then back in. He scissors his fingers, and Stiles breaks the kiss to moan languidly.

"D-dereeekk.."

Derek pulls his fingers out, pushing them back in again and repeating the same motion. Stiles grips his shoulders tightly, fingernails digging into his skin slightly, but Derek doesn't care. He licks a trail up Stiles' neck, biting at his ear gently, while making that motion a third time.

"Derek!" Stiles cries out, "need you..ngh.."

Derek pulls back out again, and Stiles keens. Derek rips open the condom, rolling it onto his member and applying a generous amount of lube. He aligns himself with Stiles' hole, brushing against it and making Stiles gasp. Then he pushes in slowly, and Stiles tosses his head to the side. Derek peppers Stiles' neck, face, and chest with kisses, trying to distract him from the pain. When he bottoms out he stops moving, allowing Stiles time to adjust.

"Tell me when." He says gently, brushing the hair off of Stiles' forehead. Stiles' eyes are shut tight, his grip on Derek's bicep almost painful. After a moment he seems to relax, opening his eyes.

"Move," he says, and Derek doesn't have to be told twice. He moves his hips at a steady pace, rocking into and then back out of Stiles repeatedly. Stiles' breaths are coming out uneven, his fists clenching the sheets at his sides. Derek strokes down one of Stiles' legs, hiking it up onto his shoulder to create a better angle. He continues to pound into Stiles, searching for the right spot.

Derek thrusts into Stiles, his pace never stuttering. It feels so good, nothing like Stiles had imagined. The hot smooth feeling of Derek's skin against his, and the strange mix of pleasure-pain is enough to make him crazy. But then Derek hits a spot within Stiles, and Stiles gasps, gripping Derek's shoulder tightly.

"God! Ah, Derek..!" He cries out when Derek hits the spot again.

Stiles cries out again, throwing his head back as Derek pounds into that spot relentlessly. Stiles can feel his legs getting shaky from the sheer pleasure of it, his moans filling the room as that familiar pressure in his abdomen builds.

"Stiles? Can we..?" Derek trails off , eying Stiles' neck where his shoulder meets it. And even in his blissed out state Stiles understands.

"Yes," he moans, "God, yes."

Derek smiles, his thrusts getting faster, deeper, and Stiles can feel himself coming undone. With one last thrust, both Derek and Stiles come, simultaneously biting each other's shoulders.

They ride out the last waves of pleasure, slowly coming down. Derek pulls out, also unclenching his jaw from Stiles's shoulder, and Stiles does the same. His eyelids flutter as his muscles relax, and Derek licks away the blood from his neck. Stiles thinks he should find that gross, but it actually makes him feel sheltered, cared for. And that's something he hasn't felt in a long time.

Derek falls onto the bed next to Stiles, pulling his listless body close and nuzzling into Stiles' hair. Stiles places his hand against Derek's chest, burrowing into the hollow of his neck. He inhales slowly, taking in Derek's scent, before breathing out happily.

"I love you, Derek.." He says tiredly, and Derek holds him closer.

"I love you too, Stiles." He says, kissing the top of his mate's head. A few beats of silence pass, and then Stiles giggles suddenly.

"What?" Derek asks, amusement in his voice.

"The pack is gonna freak..Scott's about a mile away. Brace yourself.." Stiles answers, smiling against Derek's neck.

Sure enough, Scott walks into the house a few minutes later, his footsteps halting in the kitchen.

"Seriously guys?!" He screams, clearly horrified.

And both Derek and Stiles can't hold back their laughter, imagining the look on Scott's face.

"Sorry dude," Stiles says, still laughing slightly. "But not really _that_ sorry. 'Cause I mean, have you _seen_ Derek?"

Derek blushes, and Stiles smirks at him.

And whatever Scott says back just gets thrown by the wayside.


End file.
